Ten Years After Tomorrow
by Brette Stallings
Summary: Tomorrow never came for Scarlett and Rhett. Set ten years after the events in the book, Scarlett and Rhett have the opportunity to rekindle their romance...or is the love they once shared lost forever?  Please read & review!
1. Of Debuts and Marriage Proposals

_**All of the Players belong to the incomparable Margaret Mitchell.**__** Reviews are much appreciated; love it or hate it, I need constructive criticism. **_

Chapter 1: Of Debuts and Marriage Proposals

Scarlett O'Hara had never been beautiful, but no one had ever possessed the courage to say it to her face. Only lately had she become aware of that fact, keenly aware, acknowledging the passage of time was occurring within herself just as much as it was within the people and things about her person. Captivating, stunning, and owning a pair of unforgettable green eyes which had once cemented her as the belle of three counties, the selfsame belle wore a sanguine expression as she examined her aging reflection in the vanity. Much as she'd like to utter a 'fiddle-dee-dee' and forget about her mounting troubles, the sense of urgency of the occasion, and of course, the omnipresent feelings of burden laid upon her by Melanie, that she must watch over Beau and Ashley and be kind to the long absent Rhett-duty called. And Scarlett O'Hara was never one to miss a party.

"I'm ready, Nan," Scarlett called to her daughter's maid, signaling to the Negro woman to call for her carriage.

"Miz Scarlett, ma'am," the maid, called Nan, nodded obligingly. Scarlett had no love for her newest house servant, who was younger than Scarlett's own son. She would have never spent the money on a separate maid for Ella ordinarily, but Prissy was at Tara now, with her new husband, one of Will's field hands. Even if Scarlett could spare Dilcey, she had enough to do as housekeeper to worry about dressing Ella properly. Mammy, for her part, was as old and dear and ornery as ever, but of very little use these days. So Scarlett had hired another girl. The girl was light-skinned and stern-faced, and to boot boasted the name 'Emancipation', which Scarlett had quickly shortened to Nan. Nan's wages for guiding Ella Lorena through her first social season were exorbitant for a darkie maid in Scarlett's opinion, but Ella had no complaints, and Nan was competent, if not overly so.

"Are you finished dressing Miss Ella's hair?" Scarlett questioned sharply, taking in her reflection one last time.

"Oh yes'm." Nan smiled with delight, as if it was she were the one going to the ball rather than Ella. "Miz Ella's a vision, Miz Scarlett. Ah suspect she'll have every suitor in Atlanta-"

"That'll do, Nan," Scarlett fumbled with her small evening bag, casting one last look of longing at the vanity before slamming the door behind her, irritated that she had to go to this party at all.

"Oh, Ella, honey." Scarlett quickly appraised her daughter, so awfully tall instead of slim and lovely, as she had been at that age-as Bonnie would have been. Ella looked down at the floor as if she wished to disappear into it.

"Don't Miz Ella look fine, Miz Scarlett?" Nan muttered expectantly, again taking on airs which made Scarlett's blood boil.

"Fine," Scarlett nodded disinterestedly. Ella's gingery hair did look better than normal, pulled back into a graceful knot at the nape of her neck. Her cream ball gown was cinched at the waist, emphasizing her bountiful breasts (Scarlett wasn't sure where in the world the girl had gotten those). Ella's skin was dusky pink, tinged with the faintest hint of rouge on her lips and cheeks.

"Remember, Ella Lorena, say little and speak softly. And if I hear any talk of philosophy I shall faint on sight."

Ella could recite poetry and spew philosophers' statements like no one Scarlett had ever met before; and, though the pastime wasn't entirely unladylike, it was unlikely that plain, bookish Ella would ever attract a suitable husband. That simply wouldn't do, not for Rhett Butler's stepdaughter. Rhett had criticized her management of her children from day one, but Scarlett would be damned if Wade Hampton and Ella Lorena didn't make good marriages and put that particular accusation to rest. Perhaps then, Rhett be able to forgive _that _shortcoming of Scarlett's and begin to address the rest of them, once and for all attempting to salvage the wreckage that was their married life.

"Mother," Ella roused Scarlett from her happy trance with her mousy voice, "the carriage is here."

Ella and Scarlett didn't speak on the ride to the Pecard house, only recently grand again, as Rene had finally traded in his pie wagon for a very profitable lottery venture back in New Orleans with none other than his hero General Beauregard. Maybelle Pecard, formerly Merriwether, stood with the Widow Meade, one of the last of Atlanta's Old Guard still alive, at the front entry of the stately place. Scarlett scoffed privately at sight of the two peahens, Mrs. Meade in black silk, for the Doctor had only died a year previous, and Maybelle in an ugly looking purple mess. She put on her best smile and greeted Maybelle with as much kindness as she could muster. _Melanie would have been proud. _Next to her and her pig-nosed daughter, Ella looked positively radiant, for all that she stared at the ground. _Melanie wouldn't thank me for that thought, poor good Melanie. _

Scarlett nudged her daughter. "Greet Mrs. Meade, Ella Lorena."

"Mrs. Meade," Ella managed to squeak, shaking the lady's hand limply, "and Mrs. Pecard. How good of you to invite us to your fine house."

Scarlett's cheeks reddened slightly at her daughter's shortcomings, but couldn't help but note the keen eyes of Raoul Pecard, the Pecards' apelike oldest son, devouring Ella as much as propriety would allow.

_Wouldn't that be a slap in the face to old Maybelle_…_even Rhett wouldn't have dreamt that Ella could be married to one of those snobs._

With those happy thoughts in mind, Scarlett took leave of her daughter, making sure that her dance card was filled with the names of every eligible young man whose family was a moderately respectable Democrat. She would be damned if Ella didn't have at least one proposal by the end of the evening, and meanwhile, she, Scarlett, would have a good time. If her fabled beauty had faded slightly, her wit had not, and Scarlett quipped just as easily with the young men, only her son's age, as she would if she were still the belle of Clayton County.

"Now I do declare, Raymond Pecard, I never saw a more handsome cut in all my born days. You must prevail upon your dear mother to allow you to visit my daughter Ella at the Peachtree house. She's home now from school and you do know she longs to see you."

The younger Pecard, who was neither handsome nor particularly used to the attention from the ladies, especially that of the still handsome Mrs. Butler. Unsure of what to do, he only mumbled his thanks and promised vigorously to visit Miss Kennedy at first opportunity. Under his elder brother's stern gaze, Raymond kissed Scarlett's hand and departed, leaving Scarlett alone, feeling discouraged as she watched Ella, who looked utterly miserable dancing with Joe Whitling.

"My dear Scarlett, why ever are you hiding in the corner, darling?"

Scarlett's heart soared as she held out her gloved hand for Ashley to kiss. Good, sweet Ashley, who never came to parties, was here, looking surprisingly debonair. He too had been ravaged by age, his fair hair completely grey; however, Ashley's eyes had finally began to recover some of their former sparkle. Slowly but surely, he was recovering from Melly's death.

"Ashley!" Scarlett exclaimed, then spoke more softly, "I had it on good authority, Ashley Wilkes, that you were going to spurn this party like you did the Bonnells'."

"And miss Ella's debut? Never, Scarlett. She's such a good girl, your Ella, with such a bright mind, and-"

"Oh Ashley, don't run on so. I worry so for Ella. She's not got a lick of sense, just talks philosophy and ideals and-" She stopped her speech as the corners of Ashley's mouth curved upward into a smile. "Yes, yes, I know the _Wilkes_ men find that sort of thing appealing, but she's never going to have a place in Atlanta society when she's off telling nice young men that we'd all be better off living like gypsies."

"Ah, she's been reading Thoreau," Ashley looked fondly upon his goddaughter, dancing now with Frank Bonnell and looking slightly pleased with herself. "Scarlett, don't be so hard on Ella. She can marry Beau and we'll be-"

"Don't talk like that, Ashley Wilkes," Scarlett placed a hand upon his arm, "all the talk about us has just _now _ceased. Let's not give the old biddies something else to sink their teeth into."

Ashley shook his head. "Dance with me, Scarlett. I insist. Let the tongues wag, and we'll pretend that we're back at Twelve Oaks for a moment."

Scarlett, impressed with Ashley's gumption in spite of herself, allowed the man who was responsible for the whole mess with Rhett, the man who had lived within her heart for half a lifetime, to lead her onto the dance floor. As she danced with him, chuckling slightly at the sight of the society matrons gawking at them as if Rhett were glowering in the corner and poor sweet Melly were still living, Scarlett felt an odd sense of peace. Ashley would never recover fully from Melly's death, but it hadn't destroyed him as she had feared. She would never renounce Rhett, and the cad hadn't been able to lick her yet. They were survivors, Ashley and her, and he was the only real friend she still possessed, who had stood by her in the ten horrible years since Rhett had stormed out of the Peachtree house for good. They had both been through hell and back, and had endured, maintaining both their dignity and regaining a shred of respectability.

Ashley leaned in slightly, whispering politely in Scarlett's ear, "you look so beautiful, my dear."

"Oh Ashley," Scarlett sighed, "you've been indulging in Rene's famous punch."

"No Scarlett," Ashley said, with as firm a resolve as she had ever seen in him, "I have been thinking seriously upon this matter for quite some time. I've discussed it with Beau, and he agrees wholeheartedly. I know that you have some expectation that Rhett will eventually return, but, my dear, it's been nearly ten years."

"Ashley, don't-" Scarlett's eyes widened with horror.

"Scarlett, I must entreat you, humbly, and with honorable intentions, would you become my wife? My dear, you must know my high regard for you, and I cannot help but think that Melly would think it suitable. You are already a mother to Beau, he's as close to Wade as a brother. You have waited for Rhett long enough, as I, well, as we both have mourned Melly long enough."

Scarlett was speechless.

"Please, my dear, you don't have to answer me quickly. I had merely hoped that the feelings of mutual regard which we have both expressed," Ashley's eyes looked momentarily downcast, "I had hoped that we could have a loving companionship. I have it on good authority that even our friends would be-accepting."

"Friends?" Scarlett had to laugh, "oh Ashley, you've forgotten one minor detail in your suit, my dear. I'm still married to Rhett."

Again Ashley looked hopeful, "I hope you aren't angry, Scarlett, but I spoke to Henry Hamilton about it over a year ago. Rhett has effectively abandoned you, despite the generous financial support. It would be simple to acquire the necessary documents, simply stating that the marriage is no longer valid."

"Ashley, calling it something different doesn't make it anything but a divorce. Do you know a divorced woman?"

"I don't care, my dear. I know only that Melly would want it, and so my resolve is firm. I want you to be happy, and dare I say it, I want to be happy myself, in the days which are left to me. Our friendship survived the war, and the trials of this past decade. It seems right to me, Scarlett, that we grow old together in one another's company, surrounded by grandchildren."

_Grandchildren who are going to be half Cracker, Ashley Wilkes, since no society matron will let their precious children marry your son and my son and daughter when you marry a divorced woman. _

"Ashley, darling, I-"

"Don't answer now, Scarlett," Ashley smiled, "I'll be here. I vowed when Melly died that I'd never marry another. I prayed sincerely that you and Rhett would reconcile, but now it just hurts me to imagine you alone in that monstrous house. When Ella marries, and she will, I'm sure, very soon, I want to make sure that you are surrounded by those that love you."

There was no lie in Ashley's eyes, he was cold sober, and Scarlett's heart sank. He was right, Rhett was never coming back to her. She could count on her fingers the number of times he'd appeared for the duty round in Atlanta. He had been there for Wade's twelfth birthday and presented him with a set dueling pistols, which he matched with a black stallion when Wade turned fourteen. He had even made an appearance when she sent Wade off to West Point, a boy hero looking eerily like his father in his light grey uniform. With Ella, Rhett had been kind, if not affectionate. Ella had been such a strange child, as if she were lost in her own little world. Scarlett had tried to relate with her, and with Wade Hampton, but both children kept the inner workings of their hearts secret from her, for all that she did love them. She loved Beau Wilkes with all her heart, loving and petting him and spoiling him like she should have spoiled Wade. Beau was goodness and Melanie all over in looks and demeanor, and through Scarlett's gentle coaxing, eventually escaped the clutches of well meaning but dull Ashley and followed Wade to West Point, where they both excelled. They were a natural family, and would be happy together, as Ashley said, with Melly's blessing.

Why then, after ten miserable years apart, was that black hearted varmint still on her mind?


	2. What She Did About Rhett

Chapter 2: What She Did About Rhett

Scarlett's ears were still burning long after she had extricated herself from Ashley's embrace, collected Ella from her conversation (regarding some fellow by name of Voltaire) with Raoul Pecard, who looked quite bored, and was finally able to sink into her featherbed with some degree of decorum left to herself. Ashley had been sweeter than she had ever seen him, carefully placing Ella's shawl around her broad shoulders, almost as tenderly as she had seen him do the same at Twelve Oaks with Melly.

_Dear, sweet Melly. If you're watching us, darling, I've tried to keep my promise. Ashley is my dearest friend aside from you, Melly, and I couldn't bear to lose him. But I love Rhett, you know I do, Melly. _

Scarlett closed her eyes, imagining for a moment Melly's face, her sweet visage wiping away her tears; Melanie always had a way of turning into Ellen O'Hara, who wore an expression of sadness and disapproval. Melly would have understood, Ellen would not. Ellen would have only been ashamed of her, Scarlett was sure of that.

The next morning came rather quickly for Scarlett, who was used to agonizing bouts of insomnia plaguing her rest. This particular morning, she awoke refreshed and full of clarity. Ella was already in the midst of her breakfast, rising her head only slightly in deference to Scarlett's entry.

"Good morning, Mother," Ella managed, sounding once more like a mouse.

"Ella Lorena," Scarlett sank into her chair happily, "I've made a decision, one which regards you and your future happiness."

Ella looked vaguely interested, although her placid eyes flickered back towards the opened book.

"Close the book, please," Scarlett snapped through a mouthful of sausage, causing Ella to jerk violently within her chair and slam the book shut. "Gravitas, Ella Lorena."

Scarlett had a little laugh using Ashley's silly phrase reminding to Beau to have a care for his own impeccable manners; _this _creature she had given birth to was certainly no lady, then again, neither was she, if one counted Rhett Butler's opinion.

"I wanted to discuss the matter of my divorce, which has been in all but name these past ten years."

Ella's mouth formed an 'o' shape. "So its true. You're going to divorce Uncle Rhett and marry Uncle Ashley."

"It was mentioned," Scarlett began, then stopped, "Ella Lorena, you cannot possibly have thought that Uncle Rhett would return to me after the better part of a decade."

"You would do that to Beau? Blacken his family name with divorce and scandal?"

Scarlett had not expected this cold-hearted assault from the child who rarely spoke a word that wasn't part of a recitation.

"I don't care a fig about what they say about me. God's Nightgown, girl, when will you understand?"

"I understand this, Mother," Ella said the last word like a curse, leveling Scarlett with her steely gaze, "I understand that two people once loved one another. I understand that Bonnie died and your marriage along with her, but Mother, you had Wade and I. Even after Rhett left, we were there. But you shipped him off to Ashley's to comfort Beau and me to Tara! I had to face the wrath of the woman who really loved _my_ father only to have him stolen away from her by you. I had to hear how you ruined forever her chance at happiness, how my very existence served as constant reminder of her unhappiness. This treatment I endured from her, dutifully, and without complaint, every single day until you summoned me to school. I counted it a penance, for any hurt my birth caused her, but even, in my childish heart, asking God to punish Aunt Sue for her wicked lies about you."

"ELLA!" Scarlett burst out.

"Wait, Mother, I will say my piece. You asked me my feelings about a divorce and here they are: if you and Rhett have no future together, then have it done with. That being said, you've done nothing but talk of using me and Wade for that matter to restore _your _place in society. Marry the right man, you said. So I threw myself at stupid Raoul, horrible Joe, ugly Frank, just to seek your approval, for once wanting to be Scarlett O'Hara, belle of three counties. Now you're telling me its all been for naught? What am I supposed to be, Mother, happy for you?"

Scarlett's lip was quivering, her hands white-knuckled upon her chair. _I've not always been as kind to her as I should have been but, this? She hates me. My own daughter hates me._

Composing herself quickly, she said haughtily, "I could care less about your regard for my happiness, Ella Lorena, or lack thereof, so it seems.

"It was never about you, Mother. Until you learn that, Uncle Rhett will never come back to you."

With that, Ella threw down her napkin and retreated from the room, leaving Scarlett to lick her wounds alone.

Scarlett's son, Wade Hampton, had followed his Uncle Henry in both career choice and in residence, and made his bachelor home at the Atlanta Hotel near the depot. For all that the boy had inherited a small portion of his father and aunt's gentle disposition, Wade was a sweet boy, and to Scarlett's surprise, displayed enormous talent for managing her vast investments. It was this, as well as her ever-increasing mothering instinct which brought her to Wade's office the next day.

"I'd like to speak to Mr. Hamilton, please," Scarlett informed her son's sharp-nosed clerk, who flashed her a glare for daring to interrupt the sanctuary of the law office. That her son was Mr. Hamilton now rather than Wade Hampton was a slightly irritating reminder of Scarlett's own age; however, the fact that he had taken over the place that Uncle Henry had built and managed to maintain throughout the war and beyond was a source of pride to her. Her little son was not so little anymore, boasting a deep, pleasant sounding voice which called out of the inner sanctum:

"Come in, Mother!"

Wade Hampton Hamilton rose immediately to kiss his mother and complement her on her new gown. He had mastered the game of flattery long ago, learning early that appealing to his mother's vanity was the surest way to win her affection. Scarlett appraised the well kept office, noting the framed diploma from West Point, and the unused dueling pistols from Rhett, carefully set upon the wall, along with Charles's sword from the war; she did hate that Wade's own attempt at heroics was cut so short by his ill health. But the great brown eyes, Charles's eyes, greeted her eagerly, and with so much love, she thought for a moment that it was Charlie himself.

"To what do I owe the honor, Mother? Another building project for Uncle Ashley?"

Scarlett rolled her eyes, half-ashamed of how often she'd had to create work for Ashley, careful to disassociate herself from the projects and allowing his pride to remain intact. She put her head close to Wade's and said in a conspiratorial whisper: "I need you to draw up divorce papers."

Wade looked horrified and outraged. "It can't be true," he stammered, "after all this time…I was sure he'd come back in the end, just sure of it."

"I was too," Scarlett said, a little sadly.

"Mother," Wade drew a sharp breath, looking so pale that Scarlett feared she'd upset him, and he'd take to his bed for weeks as he'd done when West Point sent him home. "I'll draw the papers, but what are your terms?"

"He's offered me half a million before, if I'd give him a divorce. I think that's a good place to start," Scarlett smiled sweetly.

"Half a m-m-million?" Wade stammered, "Mother!"

"What is it, darling, should I ask for more?"

"No, of course not. Mother?"

"Yes, Wade Hampton, what is it?"

"Do you think that, perhaps, if you saw Rhett again, you know, alone and without Uncle Ashley around…you both could talk things over and determine, once and for all, what it is you want? It's always occurred to me that talking things out can avoid unnecessary conflict."

Scarlett looked down into her lap. "Since when did you get so smart, Wade Hampton? Unless Rhett's made a gesture to you or unless you've become clairvoyant recently, however shall we make this meeting possible?"

Wade's shy smile returned, "as fate would have it, Mother, he's due in Atlanta tomorrow."


	3. Rhett's Visit

Chapter 3: Rhett's Visit

Wade Hampton Hamilton was a handsome young man, better looking than Rhett would have given him credit for as a child. Rhett knew that Wade had been sick of late, forced to abandon a career of military service for a law career. As glad as Rhett was that the boy was well enough to be a lawyer, Rhett worried about his long-term heath, fearing that one of these days he'd return to Atlanta and the boy would be gone just as swiftly as poor Miss Melly. That bad heart was legendary among the Hamilton's, and it was Wade's most unfortunate inheritance from Charles. Still tempted to think of him a small boy, Rhett set eyes upon the nearly twenty-two year old man, for that's what he was. He owned his father Charlie's nose and Melanie's widow's peak; but for all that Hamilton in him, the shape of his eyes and his ears belonged to Scarlett, and there was an innate grace in the boy when he walked, something he could have only picked up from his saintly Uncle Ashley.

"I feel like I'm being inspected, Uncle Rhett," Wade graced his stepfather with a sly smile. "Do I meet with your approval?"

"Don't be coy with me, Wade Hampton, I heard about your health scare." Rhett said gruffly but affectionately. "I always knew you would eventually read law but I had hoped you wouldn't go straight back into Uncle Henry's bosom."

"Uncle Henry's not worked for years, Uncle Rhett. Before I returned, the whole practice was about to cave in. But Mother helped, as she always does, sent me the figures to look at while I was recovering in New York. With her help, I've done very well."

"Scarlett, help someone?" Rhett feigned shock, "surely she turns some profit out of this little outfit."

"Not at all," Wade snapped back, a little affronted at the man's impropriety. "She felt great sympathy that I couldn't fulfill my military obligations after my graduation, came to me immediately and offered to help me set up shop here. Within three months I was able to pay back her loan in full and within the year I bought the practice from Uncle Henry. Now its mine, as it should have been my father's."

Rhett was impressed in spite of himself. "Your father would be proud if he were living. I'm merely glad your health has improved. So…" he muttered, "how are Ella and Beauregard?" He didn't really care how Ashley's son was but for some half-dead obligation to the memory of Miss Melly.

Wade's smile alit his face.

"Ella is the belle of Atlanta, and Beau is kind and generous, like Uncle Ashley. He didn't finish at West Point, quite a few of the sons of the Old Guard left when…well…when they admitted those darkies."

Rhett raised his eyebrows in amusement that Frank Kennedy's daughter could be a belle of anything, let alone Atlanta's social elite; but, it was even more amusing to him that he had heard about _that _particular West Point scandal all the way in New Orleans, finding it ironic that it was now the height of Southern sophistication to withdraw from West Point.

"But he's well now, he's finishing school at the University of Georgia. He's not quite the academic Uncle Ashley might have wished, but he's a great deal of fun. I hope that in time he'll decide read law like myself, and join me in practice. It'd be fitting, would it not, Uncle Rhett?"

"Indeed," Rhett leaned back in his chair opposite Wade, pondering his next query, the most sensitive one. "Scarlett is…well?" "Yes," Wade glowed, "Mother is quite well, and I must say, incandescently happy when I told her you were to call on me today. You must promise to say hello to her, Uncle Rhett. She is so pleased when you do."

Rhett didn't wish anything more than to keep the boy from upsetting himself, so quickly promised to see Scarlett, shook Wade's hand, and took his leave.

The selfsame Scarlett O'Hara Hamilton Kennedy Butler was pacing the length of her Peachtree Street house sitting room, hoping against hope that Rhett would come. He'd come like he had every other year since he had stormed out of her life, still raw from the loss of Bonnie, Melly, and their marriage. He'd always had the upper hand, surprising her when he came to town, always managing it on the eve of a great social occasion, once even paying call to Aunt Pitty while all of Atlanta attended Beau's birthday party at her home. He always was catching her with Ashley, even when it was Ashley and half of his extended family-it was always Ashley.

Not today. Bless Wade Hampton for alerting her of his presence in town. The boy was terribly sweet and clever, although she fretted so for him. Dr. Meade had said before he died that Wade must never allow himself to be violently upset, as his heart could never stand for it. That knowledge made her fearful for her boy, the only male child in the entire Robillard family. He'd have all of her greedy grandfather's fortune one day, would Wade Hampton, and she would be damned if he didn't live long enough to enjoy that inheritance.

Rhett showed up at half past three in the afternoon. He'd been drinking; Scarlett could smell that before he even came near her. So their reconciliation wouldn't be today, nor would they discuss terms of a divorce; no, Scarlett needed him to be sober for that.

"My dear Mrs. Butler," Rhett bowed mockingly at Scarlett, who held her head high in cool indifference.

"You're drunk," she observed.

"Not enough," he barked back. "What are you about letting a sick boy run a law practice all alone? You can't get enough, can you, Scarlett? You want to own all of Atlanta as well, do you?"

"Oh Rhett, do be quiet! Wade Hampton loves his work. He's happy, Rhett!"

"And you're happy too aren't you, knowing that when dear old Grandpere Robillard finally kicks the bucket Wade will get the lot of that old codger's fortune? He'll be a millionaire in his own right. While mother dearest hovers over him like an overgrown vulture, working him to death to make her proud. Sound familiar yet, Scarlett? The boy'll be dead in a month and then you'll no longer need my money. You can divorce me for good and marry Ashley Wilkes with a shred of dignity. I've called your bluff, Scarlett. It was noble of you, putting up the loving mother façade for the sake of Wade's health. Only you could have such savage intentions behind it."

Scarlett's mouth hardened into a thin line.

"Grandpa Robillard is ninety-three years old. He could have died yesterday or in 1860 for all I cared. How dare you come in here and say that Wade-that he's-"

"Dying?" Rhett interrupted, "he's a Hamilton, isn't he? They're not exactly known for their stamina. Besides, I heard about his heart. I had to hear it from my poor mother. Bet that gave you a scare, didn't it, Scarlett? All that Robillard money on the line, not to mention your Hamilton property…"

"Get out of here, you cruel, heartless thing!" Scarlett was shaking, "As if I could be so cold, after everything I've lost. After Bonnie!" Scarlett spat out their dead daughter's name like a curse, and the effect cut Rhett to his very core.

His mouth twitched momentarily, like he was having a spasm. His hand jutted out from his pocket, moving to touch Scarlett, but instinctively recoiled.

"I apologize, my dear, for all of my offenses against you. I won't visit Atlanta again."

Scarlett whirled around, shutting her eyes tightly and wished for a moment that he were dead for daring to utter those horrible words. Her eyes filled with tears, and when she opened them, he was gone, the front door still ajar.

"I'm not a horrible mother, Rhett Butler. I love Wade and I love Ella. They're all

that's left me. Do you hear me, Rhett Butler? You're dead to me!" Scarlett screamed the last

part and fell to the floor in a swoon, not wanting to acknowledge that there was no longer a

chance of a tomorrow for her marriage.


	4. Of Horses and Humans

Chapter 4: Of Horses and Humans

Scarlett hated the ritual of breakfast. She was never hungry early in the morning, preferring to serve brunch in between the hours proper for calling upon friends and family; so she made a point of offering this meal, thereby allowing Wade and often, Ashley, to join Ella and herself for a family gathering. Dinner with Ashley was out of the question, and Wade was normally out with his grownup friends anyway, so this was the practice during the week. Scarlett would not allow herself to be a bad mother, and since Rhett was absent to prove wrong, she sought to prove it to poor Ashley. Ashley, the man whose honor had robbed her of her happiness, was ever dependent upon her for survival, body and soul. Today however, Scarlett could not be bothered with Ashley, so irked was she at Ella. Plain, silly Ella, who wore the same expression as Frank when he had been cross with her.

"This is ridiculous, Ella Kennedy," Scarlett had tried everything with Ella. Over the years, she had come to realize that the children were not mill hands or store clerks, and as such, could not be persuaded to bend to her will every time she shouted; however, she had never mastered the graceful manners owned by her mother and Melanie. Frustrated, Scarlett resorted to pleading, a tactic which she loathed entirely, "I won't stand for this treatment from my own child. I have tried and tried to speak with you about this. Is it so difficult for you to listen?"

Ella graced her with a glance that she had indeed heard, but still had no intention of speaking about the matter.

"For the last time, please won't you answer me, has Frank Bonnell made you an offer?" Scarlett said, exasperated with her daughter's stubbornness.

Ella glared at Scarlett, looking outraged and silently entreating her Uncle Ashley or Wade or even Mammy to say something in her defense. Ashley said nothing, clearly feeling that this conversation was not for him, and though Wade's mouth moved, no words sprang forth from it. Even Mammy, usually with much to say on the topic of her 'white chile's marryin', was silent, displeased, in Scarlett's mind, about Ashley's frequent presence at her table.

"Yes Mother. Frank proposed," Ella said stiffly.

Scarlett noted that Ashley was rubbing his temples as though he suffered from a migraine. "And…" Scarlett prodded hopefully.

"I said no." Ella smirked.

"You stupid, selfish twit!" Scarlett shrieked.

"Mother!" Wade's face lost its color and Ashley looked horrified.

"I don't love him, I never have, and I certainly never shall." Ella looked proud; in truth, she looked positively like a Robillard. Even Scarlett had to admit that for all her daughter's unfortunate qualities, she carried herself well, did Ella. And she did not back down.

Scarlett set down at her place at the head of the table, glancing first at her son and then Ashley, finally meeting Ella's eyes.

"I. Am. Sorry." Scarlett's apology was forced, but Ella seemed to accept it nonetheless, exchanging a small smile with Ashley, which Scarlett wished selfishly was directed towards her. She wanted her daughter to love her, in spite of her current tide of displeasure.

"Well, Wade Hampton," Scarlett addressed her son, who looked slightly frightened by her sudden change in tone, "I suppose we'll be counting on you to uphold the prestige of this family."

"Mother?" Wade questioned, looking wary.

"Marrying, Wade. High time you find a wife. Someone respectable and virtuous and worth the Hamilton name." _If Rhett were here he would tell him to find someone as unlike me as possible_.

"Scarlett, dear," Ashley said softly, as though his tone would alter her reception to his message. "You know that marriage, even marriages with fine old families, won't make or break one's position…"

"Ashley, do be quiet, won't you?" Scarlett snapped at the wearisome man. He looked hurt at her rebuff, but said no more.

"Mother," Wade ventured cautiously, "perhaps it might be advantageous if I waited to marry, a year perhaps."

"Fiddle-dee-dee, Wade Hampton Hamilton," Scarlett took another bite of chicken and rice. It was Wade's favorite, covered with sausage gravy, and it pleased Scarlett immensely to watch both Wade and Ashley eat greedily. Wade was too lazy to hire a proper cook and Ashley too poor, Scarlett observed to herself. "You need a wife, Wade, and I don't care who I have to grovel to in this city, you and the selfish thing sitting next to you will make the greatest marriages my money can buy."

"Scarlett," Ashley attempted a reprimand, but was silenced instantly by Scarlett's glare.

"I suppose you want Beau to marry some penniless thing from the County?"

"I want Beau to be happy," Ashley stared miserably into his empty plate, thinking it was an apt metaphor for the state of his life. "That's all, Scarlett."

"Miz Scarlett," Dilcey, Scarlett's half-Indian maid from Tara interrupted the impending tirade, distracting her from seeing Ashley's signal to Wade and Ella to quit the argument which they would never win. "A visitor for you, Miz Scarlett."

Scarlett's heart quickened for a moment. _It couldn't be Rhett, not now. Not with Ashley sitting here in Rhett's chair like we're a big happy family._

"Send him in, Dilcey," Scarlett said hoarsely.

"Oh no Miz Scarlett, its Miz Tarleton, from up in Clayton County."

Ashley rose immediately, followed by Wade, who was fond of Mrs. Tarleton. Beatrice Tarleton was still a handsome woman, still maintaining her trademark red hair and large smile. Although her calico gown was faded and hardly befitting a lady going visiting, Beatrice wore it well. Ruined financially, the Tarleton's and their three remaining unmarried girls still possessed every last shred of their dignity, as fiercely proud of it as Scarlett was of her money.

"I need to speak with you, Scarlett dear," Beatrice said happily, a grin overwhelming her face, "I have a business proposition for you, one which your dear Pa would have endorsed wholeheartedly."

"I'm listening, Beatrice," Scarlett smirked, noting Ashley's discomfort about the impending discussion of money, something which eluded him entirely.

"One of my thoroughbred fillies managed to survive the war, I'm sure you've heard me tell it a thousand times, honey, right? This particular mare was very special, out of my Nellie, you see. Gorgeous specimen of a mare. The Yankees got her and the rest of my beauties that my boys hadn't taken with them; but, there was one Yankee captain that was a quality horseman, you could tell that by looking at him. He offered me fifteen dollars for her. Nothing of course, near what she was worth, but it let us all eat through the war. Oh but I'm running on, anyway, Scarlett, this gentleman, Yankee scoundrel that he was, wrote me a letter this past year, saying he was in Atlanta on business, and sold my mare's colt to a fine Tennessee man. Of course, my filly's given him two champions already; but this one, her third, is entered in the Kentucky Derby. The Kentucky Derby, Scarlett. Handsome bay out of my beautiful girl."

Scarlett was floored that proud Beatrice Tarleton was even mentioning a Yankee officer in conciliatory terms.

"All that to say, Scarlett, is that I received a telegram from this gentleman, a Mr. Blair from Tennessee. Well, he has offered me an interest in the colt. Says he's got a real shot at winning the Derby. It would do the County a credit should my baby get it."

"How much do you need, Beatrice?" Scarlett cut to the chase with little empathy.

Mrs. Tarleton looked insulted. "No Scarlett, of course I don't have that sort of money. I was hoping you'd be interested in buying my share."

The very next day, Scarlett had wired the money to a Dr. Edgar A. Blair, Esq. and had received an exhuberant response back from the gentleman gushing with eagerness to meet the co-owner of the Derby contender, Leonitus. Two weeks later, she and Wade were hastening to the depot to receive their new acquaintance.

"I hope he brings the horse," Wade muttered aloud, "it would be nice to see that we've not paid good money for a nag."

Scarlett hesitated to leave the safety of her carriage, as it had rained the night before and the roads and platforms were soaked with mud.

"This is ridiculous, Mother," Wade tugged impatiently at his collar, a habit he had maintained since his boyhood, helping his mother down. "Pull 'round, Pork, please," Wade ordered easily, "Mother, I do wish that you could have asked Ashley to accompany you for this. The lumber mill needs his hand far less than the law office does mine. Dr. Blair sounds like a decent man...I'm sure he's not a cheat-"

"Oh Wade, have a care for Mother's reputation," Scarlett adjusted her dress, secretly proud to be helping Beatrice. Her Pa would have never believed that a Tarleton bred colt could win the Kentucky Derby. Gerald would have been proud as well. "The gentleman is named Edgar Allan Blair, but Beatrice said that we'll recognize the horse immediately. I'd know a Tarleton anywhere."

Wade rolled his eyes, "I thought Beatrice was a silly woman who cared only for all things breeding."

"Humans and horses," Scarlett finished. _And she knew what she was talking about_.

"Pardon me, ma'am," a slightly differently accented, but distinctly Southern voice came from a pleasant faced, silver-haired man who might have been a long lost relative of John Wilkes. "I heard the name Tarleton and must be in the right place. My name is Edgar Blair, and I would be much obliged if you could direct me to a Mrs. Butler."

"How do you do?" Scarlett smiled her most charming smile, "I'm Mrs. Butler."

"Charmed," Mr. Blair kissed her hand. "Please, do meet my daughter, Miss Sarah America."

Scarlett's eyes might have narrowed with jealousy if she had been a few years younger and a few inches narrower in the waist; however, this creature surpassed even the belle of Clayton County in countenance. Her face would not have been considered beautifully shaped, as her forehead was too large and her chin too pointed, yet her eyes were blue as cornflowers and her skin was magnolia white like fresh cream. Her waist was not naturally small, as Scarlett's own had been, but her ample bosom and other curves made her seem even more rosy and fresh, from the tips of her lacy-gloved hands to the buckles on her tiny shoes. When Tony Fontaine had talked of Tennessee women, of their unsurpassed beauty, he had certainly come into the presence of one such as the lady before her.

As it was, Scarlett only nodded politely, and privately compared the look on Wade Hampton's visage as comparable to the one poor Charlie had borne for her. Wade was smitten, and by God, Scarlett would make the boy happy. A few well placed inquires with the girl's father secured a further audience with Miss Sarah America, and finally, with one heavy dose of her best Georgia charm, Scarlett had successfully left the topic of horses and moved onto humans, wrangling an invitation for herself and her son and daughter to the invitation-only Cotton Ball in August. She only hoped that Wade Hampton could contain himself until that time.


	5. Scarlett In Tennessee

Chapter 5: Scarlett In Tennessee

Spring came, and the constant rain made Atlanta dull. Parties were called off after a buggy ran off the road one night, washing into the creek and killing the unfortunate Negroes inside. Scarlett was almost relieved to be stuck in the Peachtree house, for it meant that Ella and Wade were stuck with her. Wade was quite gallant as a general rule; and he would never stand for his mother and sister being without a man when the weather had turned so foul.

Happily, Beau Wilkes was home from college, and Scarlett sought every opportunity possible to invite the good looking, blonde haired, brown-eyed boy into her home. He was as unlike his father in demeanor as he was Melly in looks; but he'd gotten the best of both his parents. Beau was like Ashley before the war, carefree and mischievous; yet like Melly, he possessed a certain manner about him, a comforting presence which made him a welcome addition to the Peachtree house. Despite Beau's manifold charms, Scarlett, for all her subtle hints, could never impress them upon her daughter. Ella insisted, loudly and in front of all the parties concerned, that being courted by Beau was comparable to being courted by Wade. Scarlett might have been able to resign herself to the fact that Ella simply didn't care for Beau, but she could never understand Ella's rigid stance against marriage. Every suitor Scarlett pushed on Ella, Ella rejected. Instead of flirting with beaux her own age, Ella ran to Ashley. Dependable Ashley, with whom she could spend hours talking about philosophy, science, and the old days. Ella was even determined to write a history of it all, a romantic account of the Old South.

'Fiddle-dee-dee,' Scarlett thought to herself one day, 'Ella and Ashley can live in the past all they want; I for one have had quite enough reminiscing. The war came and we were licked, but we carried on…just like Rhett came and I was licked…' But Scarlett hadn't carried on; on the contrary, Rhett consumed her, just as Ashley once had. Thoughts of Rhett sustained her, especially thoughts of how she could, with propriety and maintaining a respectable front, run into him. Calling on his mother in Charleston was out of the question without an invitation, and Ella was being so difficult regarding prospective beaux. Scarlett's answer came in the form of a note from the dear man who had bought Mrs. Tarleton's horse, reminding her of the invitation to journey to Tennessee. Mr. Blair promised lavish tours of his extensive property and thriving stables in Nashville and rousing parties at night; he talked of a train ride to Louisville to watch his horse (half of whom belonged to Scarlett) run in the Kentucky Derby; and finally, perhaps most importantly, he repeatedly mentioned his dear daughter's eagerness to become better acquainted with Wade Hampton. _Great balls of fire, I've become as bad as Beatrice Tarleton! _

"I wish you were coming with us," Ella moaned miserably to Ashley. Ashley, for his part, looked genuinely sad to see them go.

Scarlett and Wade were in another world, both mother and son's heads were filled with plots, each concerning the beautiful Miss Sarah America.

"What if she's changed her mind about me, Mother? After all, I'm just a lawyer. I don't know a thing about thoroughbreds…and I'm so clumsy and stupid, not nearly good enough for her."

"Hush your mouth, Wade Hampton, Mother's busy planning your wedding."

Ella had sulked and Wade had worried himself into a minor fit, causing the need to cease their journey about five miles south of Nashville. Scarlett had received an invitation from a Mrs. Harding, an old friend of Beatrice Tarleton, to call upon her at a plantation named Belle Meade. _Belle Meade, what a silly name. _Once, Scarlett would have been proud to visit a Tennessee plantation legendary for its hospitality; not now, as she fussed and fretted over Wade. _Why oh why is he always ill? He keeps this up and we'll miss the Derby entirely._

Wade was better as the days turned into a week, yet still unable to chance the jostling on the road. The doctor her hosts had sent for was remedial at best, having no knowledge of the heart like Wade's Atlanta specialist; the country doctor actually believed that Wade would be best served by vigorous exercise. He would have proved it, too, had the patient's indignant mother not thrown him out of the sickroom.

"I didn't keep you well, all these years, Wade Hampton Hamilton, to have you killed by some crackpot from the Tennessee hills."

On the third week of Wade's illness, the day Scarlett actually began to despair and think that she had done a very foolish thing by bringing the children to this godforsaken state, none other than their acquaintance, Mr. Blair rode up the lawn. He rode a magnificent bay stallion, the most beautiful piece of horseflesh Scarlett had ever seen. Following him was his daughter, riding sidesaddle on a white mare. _She is a darling thing, _Scarlett had to admit that as pretty as Sarah America was, she owned the disposition of a true Southern belle. There was no lie in Miss Sarah's eyes when she gushed over Scarlett's own fashionable gown, which, Scarlett knew was out of fashion already in New Orleans. She made a point to know, just in case Rhett came swooping down from the sky…

"Madam!" Mr. Blair greeted Scarlett with pleasure and pride. "My dearest daughter has spoken of nothing else but this very meeting with your son. I hope he feels well enough to receive a guest?" Scarlett eagerly sent Sarah along with Ella, hoping that the pretty creature might cast off some of her charm onto her own daughter. She then insisted upon a picnic lunch to be delivered for the girls and Wade, in the presence of Sarah's father of course. She was granted with a nod of understanding from the girl's doting father, who bade her to take his arm.

"I suppose you'd like to take a look at your investment, Mrs. Butler?" At Scarlett's wide-eyed curiosity, he continued, dismounting, "This is Leonatus, my Derby runner, in whom we both have an interest."

The horse was clearly half Tarleton; only the Tarleton horses had such lines, such bursts of red coloring within their coats.

"Pride of the South," Mr. Blair rambled on, the way her Pa would have, if he were alive, "I bought the mare off of your friend Mrs. Tarleton, and found the stallion who sired this beauty roaming through the streets of Atlanta. This is a Georgia horse, Mrs. Butler, through and through." Scarlett's eyes welled up unconsciously; that horse was a part of her and it would win that race if it killed her. Mr. Blair's kind eyes noted Scarlett's wet ones.

"My dear lady, does it upset you to think of the war?"

Scarlett shook her head with sincerity, "I mourned losing the way things were. Once. Then Reconstruction came and I…" she trailed off as she realized who she had been talking to.

"You need not hide it, dear lady," Mr. Blair kissed her hand like one of her beaux would have done so very long ago at Tara. "Wounds of war are not easily forgotten. As to my service to the Union, I think you are aware that my state surrendered rather early in the conflict?"

Scarlett nodded; all of Atlanta had taken the surrender of Tennessee as a monstrous betrayal.

"They used my home as a headquarters. I'm a doctor, you see, Mrs. Butler. It hurt, having the invader there, but as they left, heading off to finish your good Georgians off, I knew that is was my duty to go along with them. It was my last good work for the Cause, was giving poor Mrs. Tarleton my last fifteen dollars, and see-here were are, with this magnificent stallion as the fruit of that work. There, there, Mrs. Butler. This horse will do more for your friends and mine more credit than any wartime heroism. This horse will make Georgia famous."

Scarlett thrived in Tennessee, so much so that she genuinely considered buying the property adjacent to President Andrew Jackson's old plantation. Not that Scarlett knew who President Jackson was, but Scarlett did love President Jackson's grand house. The Tennesseans loved their horses and their whiskey, and loved grand socials celebrating both. They were a different sort of folk than her friends from Clayton County or the Atlanta society matrons. There was something wild and mysterious about them, for all their fine horses and dancing, they were frontiersmen under the veneer of respectability. For once in her life, Scarlett felt perfectly at ease with the elite; positively prudish in the company of the first wives of Nashville. The city was easy to love, a little paradise.

It was soon, too soon for Scarlett, that the contingent of horses, jockeys, trainers, and owners loaded onto the train to Louisville. Never in her life had Scarlett been so far North. Mr. Blair had reassured her that the good people of Kentucky were the same as in Tennessee, just as crazed with euphoria over the coming racing season. The Kentucky Derby, however, was becoming the foremost prize in the minds of the racing elite. Scarlett had a fleeting moment of pity for Rene Pecard, who had always dreamed of running the race circuit with prized thoroughbreds; she dismissed the thought immediately, for the Pecards were hardly poor anymore and Maybelle had always been so mean to her. This was her horse and her Derby, and she would be damned before anyone from Atlanta spoiled her fun. With that in mind, Scarlett and her entourage set up house in the Old National Hotel. She made sure to reserve the best and biggest suites, endearing herself to the hotel staff; should Rhett come looking, Scarlett saw to it that he would have no trouble finding her.

Beau and Ashley arrived three weeks behind Scarlett and her children. Beau had not come alone, bringing with him a swarthy faced young man a few years his senior. He introduced the young man as a friend from school, but Ashley told her privately that the two had struck up a friendship while Beau holidayed in New Orleans. _Great balls of fire, what is so alluring about New Orleans?_ Ashley was sure that the young man was some sort of speculator or gambler, and not at all a fit companion for his son, but, as was a typical pattern of behavior for Ashley, he thought quite a few things but said none of them. So Beau and his companion, the boy named Julian Ross, were assimilated into Scarlett's Kentucky Derby party. Julian quipped about the fitness of Leonatus against the horses from New York and Kentucky while making friends with the jockeys, and he played cards like a shark while he flirted with Scarlett, allowing her to win once or twice; from the tipping of his hat to the saunter of his walk, Julian reminded Scarlett of someone. His pleasant looking face did little to endear him to anyone but Scarlett, who appreciated handsome faces, and Beau, who appreciated good company now that his boyhood best friend was otherwise occupied by the lovely Miss Blair. Ella, for her part, was cordial to her brother but largely absent from the Scarlett's dinners, spending all of her time reading.

One evening, Beau and Wade went along with the younger Blair boys, Frank and Robert, to tour the city. Julian had loudly declared that he preferred playing cards with the lovely Scarlett, stroking her ego and making her feel half her age. In the end, Julian had shrugged and gone along with them. Scarlett missed the company of the boys. Ashley was hardly comforting and Ella was hardly pleasant. Minutes turned into hours, and Scarlett found herself growing increasingly concerned.

How long Scarlett stared at her window, waiting to hear sounds of drunken, boyish laughter, she did not know. Hours passed; she knew Ashley was long asleep. Ella was sharing a room with Miss Blair. She returned to her suite and ordered a brandy. Drinking deeply, Scarlett's chest tightened with uncertainty. Wade was barely recovered, and Beau and that Julian were so impetuous, and in the company of those Tennessee boys …_Rhett is right; I am a horrible mother. _

A knock on Scarlett's door sent a chill down her spine, fearing that the Klan and the Yankees and God only knew who else would manifest at the other side. Steeling herself for bad news, Scarlett's heart made a summersault in her chest. They were dead, she knew it.

Wade's smiling face was not what she had been expecting, and she fought the urge to slap her son for scaring her so. He put a finger to his lips and mumbled a quick apology for the lateness of the hour.

"God's Nightgown, Wade Hampton!" Scarlett attempted to keep her voice down in the hallway, "where have you been? Where have you all been?"

"It's Rhett, Mother. He's here. He'll be at the Derby tomorrow too."

"Whatever do you mean, Wade? Rhett doesn't care a fig for horse racing. I could kill you for scaring me so."

Wade's blue eyes were alight with mirth. "It was him, Mother. We played cards with him, Beau and Julian will tell you if you don't believe me. It's the strangest thing, Julian is well acquainted with Rhett already…he's his ward. Would you ever believe that?"

Scarlett's green eyes narrowed. So she had recognized that smirk and that posture after all. After all the speculation on her part, Rhett's mysterious ward had finally made his appearance. The boy was charming…like his father, Scarlett thought spitefully. _He's probably the result of Rhett philandering with some creature like that Belle. _Scarlett hated Rhett and hated Julian and hated even Wade for being so naïve.

"Go to bed, Wade Hampton," Scarlett addressed her son, kissing him as though he was still a child, not a man grown.


	6. The Kentucky Derby

Chapter 6: The Kentucky Derby

Scarlett awoke early the next morning, half expecting Wade's revelation to be the result of far too much card playing and spirits; however, Rhett was indeed present in the salon of the National. Scarlett was genuinely surprised, for all that she did expect him. She had grown so used to not seeing him when she looked for him that the actual laying of eyes on the man was a rare thing. He looked horrible of course, fat as a hog and sporting a horrid little beard, like a seedy gambler well past his prime. She hated to think of such a strong, powerful man going to seed, and yet she was oddly comforted that no woman would ever want to touch him besides that Watling creature. He was half drunk already; and she didn't even have to smell him to tell. He was teetering, off balance, and so at home with the crowd of ne'er-do-wells surrounding him at the table that it would be impossible to mistake him for a gentleman. Yet he was her curse and her undoing, and Scarlett O'Hara would be damned before she gave up a chance to saunter by him on Ashley's arm and wearing an expensive new frock that Rhett's ill-gotten money had bought.

Ashley, for his part, was quite weary of tweaking Rhett Butler's nose, even if the man was a dissolute drunkard and scoundrel. Scarlett had none of that, and asked the maître'd to seat them at the very center table, where they were sure to be noticed by all. Noticed they were. Ashley seemed to be sinking lower and lower into his chair and Scarlett was nervously toying with the garnet about her neck. Rhett had spotted them as they walked in, and he was glowering. If looks could kill, Scarlett thought, Ashley and I would be mince meat. She didn't care. How dare Rhett have a son by that Watling woman, or worse, some other fancy lady from New Orleans, and claim to love her, Scarlett? Julian was polite, well-dressed, and educated; Scarlett would have almost been tempted to bet Tara on the fact that he was Wade's age or younger, making his conception _after _that fateful barbeque at Twelve Oaks. Rhett claimed that it was love at first sight…what a lie! The boy's existence was proof enough on that count.

Rhett knew Scarlett had spotted him, but he didn't care. She had the audacity to rub the sad-eyed Ashley Wilkes in his face, after all the history and years between her and himself. He had played cards with Wade and Miss Melly's son-if Miss Melly hadn't been a saint on earth, he'd have refused to believe that Wilkes could have possibly sired such a talented and exuberant boy as Beauregard-and then there was Julian, of course.

The irony that Beau and Julian had become thick as thieves of late was not lost upon Rhett. He wondered for the briefest of moments if Scarlett was jealous at all. Julian wasn't the child of his body, but certainly the child of his heart. When he had first become acquainted with Belle Watling, her name had been something else. She was the daughter of an impoverished but respectable landowner, a man with more pride than sense, and he, Rhett, was the son of the privileged Charleston Butler's. He'd taken Belle out buggy riding with only one intention in mind; but he soon learned that he was hardly the first young man to do so. Belle and Rhett were friends instantly, he found a willing ear to sound off his troubles, while Belle found a protector and advocate. She would later call on Rhett to help her escape her situation when she found herself with child. Although the brat belonged to Belle's father's overseer rather than Rhett himself, he made it a point to look to the child's well-being. He was sent to New Orleans, became a perfect hellion, and now, was playing cards with Wade Hampton and Beau. Life was funny that way, Rhett sighed.

Scarlett was doing this on purpose, he was certain. Wade had run to his Mother Dearest and told her that he, Rhett, was in town, and this was her response. He had stormed out of her life with the declaration that he didn't give a damn what the woman did with herself, yet the fact remained that he did. He cared as much about Scarlett now as then, ten years earlier, but this affront was too much. Wilkes had forfeited his right to a dignified argument between gentlemen a long time ago, when he was repeatedly unfaithful to his own jewel of a wife. Rhett seared with hatred toward Ashley Wilkes. He took another swig of whatever the place had served him; he was fairly certain that the whiskey supply had been depleted by himself the night previous. To hell with it, Rhett thought. He would settle this once and for all.

"Hello Ashley…and…Mrs. Butler, I presume," Rhett mock-bowed to them both, taking delight from Scarlett's flushed cheeks.

"You're drunk, Rhett!" Scarlett snapped in a furious whisper.

"If I am, Mrs. Butler, then I have the distinction of drinking in public rather than private, like yourself."

Ashley stood up in his chair, his face stiff with disgust, "I cannot stand idly by while you speak to Scarlett this way. If you have something to say to me, we can exchange words out of the public view."

"You're still quite the little gentleman, aren't you, Wilkes?" Rhett said as though he were speaking to a small child.

Ashley's mouth formed a thin line. He admonished Rhett in his eyes, but refused to raise his voice to Rhett's level, attempting to maintain a hint of civility. "I apologize to you for any shortcomings of my own, sir, but you have no right to criticize Scarlett, in so public a place. Have you no respect?"

"None," Rhett raised his voice even further, silencing the entire salon. Scarlett was looking pale. Perhaps she and Wilkes had finally consummated their long-standing relationship. "I have no respect for women who lie. I have no respect for women who cheat. And I certainly have no respect left for women who keep the company of white livered, cowardly men."

Ashley's face was grey now, his voice raspy. "I never at any time-"

"Of course you didn't," Rhett spoke to Ashley although his eyes were focused on Scarlett. "I've already had a conversation once before with Mrs. Butler about your honorable breed. I even recall a prediction I made, that were poor Miss Melly dead like Scarlett prayed for all those years and she actually _was_ able to possess you, she'd be unhappy. How fickle is woman! I was wrong. How happy you are! A toast, then, to Mr. Ashley Wilkes and to Mrs. Scarlett O'Hara Butler, may you live happily together for all of your days."

"Enough of this," Ashley muttered, looking mortified, "come, Scarlett."

Rhett let out an odd laugh, and turned around as if to leave.

Scarlett looked horrified, almost to the point of sobbing. Good, Rhett thought, let the cold-hearted thing have a taste of reality. He paused for a moment, listening to Ashley murmur words of comfort to her. It left a bitter taste in his mouth. He turned around slowly.

"Wilkes!" Rhett socked Ashley in the mouth so hard that the other man landed in a heap in Scarlett's lap. She screamed, horrified, and fainted. Rhett, satisfied at last, strolled out of the salon feeling infinitely better as he eyed the two fallen forms of his wife and her lover. The crazed look in his eye disappeared and he was once again debonair, slipping a crisp wad of bills into the hand of the stunned maitre'd and making his exit.

Scarlett vaguely remembered Ashley carrying her upstairs from the dining salon and placing her on the bed. Even less, she recalled Ella's terrified screams and Wade's angry shouts. In the very back of her mind, she even had a slight recollection of Mr. Blair's triumphant yell that Leonitus had won the Derby by a long shot.

Scarlett's face was burning with fever, so delirious was she. Ella sponged her off with cool linens until she was able to breathe, and someone had called for a doctor. A kindly looking man, he pronounced that Scarlett was suffering from a "nervous complaint". When, hours later, her eyes finally opened, Scarlett found herself staring at Ashley.

"Have you been here long, Ashley?" she said weakly.

"Three days," Ashley nodded, slightly coolly.

"That's a long time," Scarlett tried to sit up.

"No, Scarlett," Ashley said firmly, "you must lay still. We've been very worried for you, my dear."

"Oh Ashley, you're being a goose, I'm not weak like-" Scarlett stopped short of saying her name, but she knew that he knew who she meant. Mentioning Melly, even indirectly, still cut him to the quick and she knew it. "I'm sorry, Ashley. It's just that I feel so silly lying in bed all day while you take care of me. I hope I've not been talking in my sleep…"

His silence did nothing to reassure her.

"I have been, then…" Scarlett murmured. "Rhett?" She looked at Ashley's face for confirmation. He gave none, only looking down toward the floor.

"Mother!" Ella's voice penetrated the silence as she bounded through the doorway. "Ashley, you were supposed to tell me when she was awake. You must get Wade, quickly, please! Oh Mother, we've been so worried!"

Scarlett's emotions got the best of her at her daughter's embrace. Ella was normally so very stiff and dull; she felt a thrill that perhaps her daughter did love her after all.

"It's alright Ella, dear," Scarlett stroked Ella's gingery hair as the girl sobbed, "Mother's fine. Please, sweetheart…" Scarlett's voice dropped to a whisper as Ashley left the room, "tell me what happened. I just remember…Rhett…and then fainting."

"I was so scared, Mother. You were talking nonsense about Tara and owing three hundred dollars, and then, when Ashley tried to tell you it had been paid you starting screaming…oh Mother, it was horrible! You said things about…my father."

Scarlett's look of panic was lost upon Ella, who continued: "but then, when we thought you were lost to us, you saw her. It was like she came to you in a vision and everything was alright again."

"Who, Ella?" Scarlett said through hot tears.

"Aunt Melly of course," Ella said as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "You were having a conversation with Aunt Melly."

"Melly?" Scarlett sobbed like a small child, clutching Ella, "I want Melly, I want her so. I needed her and she was gone."

"Mother?" Ella looked horrified, thinking that perhaps her mother was having another fit.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," Scarlett groaned, miserable. "where's Rhett?"

"Rhett?" Ella spat, "hopefully halfway to Virginia by now, that black hearted bastard. When Wade heard what he said to you he threatened to shoot him on the spot. It took Beau and Julian and all the boys to hold him back."

Scarlett's tears returned at the knowledge that Rhett was gone. She remembered his words, every syllable. His words had been cold, indifferent, and by leaving when her family thought her at the brink of death he had proven his apathy.

"Mother!" Wade Hampton kissed his mother and held her so tightly that Ella had to remind him of her illness. "I'm so happy you're better."

"I wouldn't have been alright if I'd heard you'd gone charging after Rhett with a shotgun."

"It took every bit of charm I possess to get him to calm down," Beau Wilkes said helpfully, appearing at the door next to his careworn father. "I finally convinced him that a steadier hand and cooler head was necessary to finish off that piece of filth."

"Beau," Ashley scolded. "Cease this talk this instant."

"It's alright, Ashley, I am quite alright." Scarlett scoffed. "Now for the last time, all of you…don't be shy, what happened that I don't know about?"

Wade exchanged a glance with Ashley, who looked weary, and then to Ella, who nodded. "It's this, Mother. That ill-bred, scurrilous louse left you _these_ before he took off."

At the sight of the divorce papers, Scarlett fainted again.

Scarlett was on the train to Nashville the next morning, stopping only to allow Wade Hampton to pay a call to Miss Blair under the ruse of conveying half of the Derby prize money to the Blair family. Despite Mrs. Blair's protests, Scarlett attempted to give the whole wad of dollars away, knowing that Beatrice Tarleton would never accept a penny.

"We'll keep it," Wade had said to her after their unsuccessful attempt, "for a rainy day." _Good boy_, Scarlett thought.

She, Wade, and Ella were off to Atlanta next, by way of Jonesboro to allow her to rest a few days at Tara. It would be good to see Will, Scarlett thought, but never Suellen and her passel of brats. Dutifully, she played the generous aunt always, bringing the three girls a bounty of new gowns each season.

Will was waiting for them at the station, hugging Scarlett and Ella and shaking Wade's hand. He hoisted Scarlett's trunk into his small rig and offered his hand.

"What's that look on your face, Wade Hampton?" Scarlett raised her eyebrow quizzically. "Why aren't you getting in?"

"You're staying at Tara and getting well, Mother," Wade braced himself for the impending argument. "The doctor was very strict, Mother, you've had a great shock. You need some time to think. Ella and I will manage things in Atlanta. The Peachtree house needs to be maintained; you can't stay there alone, it's not right and you know it."

"Soon everybody will know about the divorce," Ella burst out, then looked ashamed, as Will obviously did not know yet. Luckily Will had the good grace to pretend to not have heard and looked away.

"I suppose I'm overruled," Scarlett sighed as she beheld her grown-up children. "Where shall you stay, Ella Lorena?"

"Aunt Pitty's," Ella said brightly, "it's all arranged. I wrote her a letter explaining about the store…"

"The store?" Scarlett interrupted.

"Yes, Mother," Wade interceded. "The store."

"You're not selling my store," Scarlett snapped.

"Of course not, Mother, we're-"

"You can't work the store and your law practice too, Wade Hampton!"

"Of course not, Mother. Ella is."

Scarlett looked at her daughter with abject horror.

"Why not? It's mine, isn't it?" Ella grinned.

"Ella, your place is-"

"My place is at that store, Mother. I won't let it go under. I promise."

"And I have more lumber orders from clients for Uncle Ashley," Wade interjected, "so don't worry a thing about him. I'll even go down to the mill once a week and check the books."

They had thought of everything, Scarlett thought, the manipulative little things. She had the strangest feeling that underneath all that love and affection was an ulterior motive. They wanted her out of Atlanta for some reason…but she was going home. Her longing for Tara was even stronger than her broken heart. _Let them go, Scarlett_, she told herself, _after all, it'll all be theirs someday._ She waved at Ella and Wade as they re-boarded the train to Atlanta; usually their leaving was quick and with little conversation; however, this time, she kissed the pair of them as if it was the last time she would ever look upon them. They were so grown-up, at twenty-three and seventeen. They were no longer impressionable children, but spirited, capable adults. As their waving arms became smaller and smaller, Scarlett felt a surge of pride. She was ready to go home.


	7. Of Old and Young Love

Chapter 7: Of Young and Old Love

Scarlett awoke the next day stiff in her bed, for all that Suellen had gone to the trouble of making sure she would be comfortable. How long she'd been asleep, she wasn't sure. It wasn't uncommon for Scarlett to retire in the late afternoon and not arise until the next day at the same time; Tara was the only place in the world where she could do thus. She was, for a glorious moment, a child again. Perhaps the laugher from down the stairs belonged to Suellen and Careen, and any moment she'd hear her Pa's thick Irish brogue: "But where's me Puss? Katie Scarlett, if you're not still a slugabed!" "Coming, Pa," she would call back to him.

But Gerald wasn't at the bottom of the stairs waiting, nor was Ellen in her office, quietly managing the expenses of the great farm. They were gone, along with all her hopes and dreams of childhood. Even her home wasn't that, anymore; and regardless, she had not even a husband left to share it with. Damn you, Rhett, Scarlett thought, for leaving me in this condition. Living with Suellen of all people, for the last three weeks…or had it been four? She had lost count.

Scarlett opened the shutters to examine the cotton field below. The little white buds were just making their appearance. It would be harvest time before they knew it, and the plants looked sturdy and hardy. Grow, cotton, grow, Scarlett willed the little things. While Tara wasn't the glorious plantation home it had once been, Will had done wonders with the place. He had held Tara together, and seen to it that his family was comfortable, if not overly prosperous. Scarlett was genuinely happy that Suellen had found such a good man for herself.

Divorce papers, Scarlett thought with fresh indignation, as if I would dare sign them.

In truth, she had been frightened in the first year that he had left, that he'd force her to divorce him and he'd cut her off with nothing. Now, the old fears of hunger and cold entered her mind. She had lived far too many years with unlimited funds to be cut off now. She couldn't move into Pittypat's house with Ella, nor allow Wade to take her in like a charity case. And she certainly couldn't marry Ashley, for all of his talk of an honorable solution. Ashley wasn't like Rhett, tolerant and indulgent. He would never allow his wife to work to bring in money; even if she bullied him into letting her run the mill for him, it would kill him to allow her to do so. And Scarlett had an inkling that her promise to Melanie had not included Ashley's untimely death.

She had to hand it to Ashley, he had shown more gumption during their time in Kentucky than she had known him to own all of his life. First, he had ordered Beau in no uncertain terms back to school. Furthermore, he had clearly forbidden any contact with Julian Ross and his kind. Beau had listened dutifully, but Scarlett knew that Beau would do exactly as he pleased in the end; Ashley's words had little affect on him. _He is such a sweet boy, I do wish Ella would notice him more._

Suellen knocked twice on Scarlett's door, then entered, "Feeling better?" Scarlett thought her sister looked as though she'd prefer scooping manure rather than serving Scarlett's breakfast, but Suellen owned enough grace to set the tray down beside her. "You look horrible."

"I've had a nervous complaint," Scarlett addressed her sister mechanically.

"No you haven't." Suellen scoffed, "Rhett finally sent those divorce papers you've been dreading for years and look at you, sitting here crying about the money."

"I am not!" Scarlett snapped. "If you knew what I felt about Rhett you would-"

"Very similarly to the way you felt about Ashley, I presume?" Suellen said snidely, "you were so sweet on him for all those years because he was the only beau in the whole County who wasn't dying of love for you. And now that Rhett's grown tired of you, he's taken Ashley's place. You could have Ashley and have it done, you know."

"What have I done to you to deserve that?" Scarlett hiccoughed, hiding a flood of tears, "I've only put food on your table and sent you and the girls gowns and clothes and…oh you still can't be mad at me for Frank."

"I'll never forgive you for that," Suellen sat down on the bed next to Scarlett, "and every time I look at Ella, I look for Frank and don't see him. I only see a miniature version of you."

"What?" Scarlett wiped her eyes, "you can't possibly suggest that I was unfaithful!"

"No. Though the thought did cross my mind," Suellen shrugged. "I wanted to love your daughter when you sent her here, but you had already ruined her. You had stamped out the love and the kindness out of her, and all of Frank's legacy was gone. She was a little monster, a little _you_!" Suellen said the word 'you' accusingly, as though Scarlett hadn't been paying attention.

"I did what I could," Scarlett said bitterly.

"Look at this," Suellen thrust a letter onto Scarlett's lap. Scarlett didn't even have to read it to know it came from India Wilkes, the bitter old spinster. She was the only person in Atlanta left for Suellen to talk to, and they were united of course, in their hatred of Scarlett. "Apparently Ella is quite the merchant. She's bought the building next to the store and hopes to turn it into another section, a fancy goods shop for ladies while hardware and furniture are in the-"

"Let me see that!" Scarlett grabbed the letter out of her sister's hands. Ella had never had any business sense, or any care at all for that which wasn't inscribed in poetry or philosophical texts.

"India also begs me to discipline her, in Rhett's absence and your…incapacitation. She even has something to say about Ashley, Scarlett. Apparently he's taken up with someone entirely unsuitable. Have you been…?"

"No!" Scarlett silenced her sister. "Do you think I would risk that? With Rhett?"

"I didn't think so," Suellen shrugged. "I always knew you didn't really care about Ashley…you just couldn't have him."

"Get out of here, Sue," Scarlett sobbed. "I don't want to hear any more about what a horrible mother I am. Or about Ashley or India or any of them!"

Another two weeks passed without word from Atlanta, saving Wade's weekly report on her business interests. Scarlett was sitting on the porch with her nieces one afternoon, entertaining the three airhead girls with tales of Tara before the war, when beaux would flock by the hundreds to pay call to the belle of three counties. Scarlett's nieces were enraptured with her stories; their own mother was not hardly so exciting and lovely as Aunt Scarlett. When Will lumbered up the front steps, Scarlett exploded with giggles along with the three girls.

"Wat you got 'em in such a tizzy 'bout, Scarlett?" Will smiled indulgently at his girls.

"I want a green dress, Pa, just like Aunt Scarlett wore to the barbeque at Twelve Oaks," Susie, the oldest, spoke up, "and a fancy hat with a big bow and a darling little parasol."

"Where you think you'll be goin' dressed up like that, Sue Benteen?" Will raised his eyebrow, but then shooed the girls off. "I need to speak to Aunt Scarlett. Out of here, chickens."

"But you'll finish later, Aunt Scarlett?" Ellie, the littlest one begged. "We haven't even finished hearing about how Uncle Rhett drove you out of Atlanta when the Yankees came?"

"I'll finish later, precious." Scarlett soothed her nieces with a kiss but noted Will's scowl. "What's wrong, now, Will? Oh, don't be so silly about me giving them pretty things, you know how I-" Will's somber look stopped Scarlett. "Will? What is it? It's not Wade? He's…he's not sick is he?"

"Wade's fine," Will said shortly. "Here's the note from him. 'Bout the store. Thriving he says. He wants to pay us a call here. Interested in some cotton."

"That's fine and dandy, Will, but what's the matter? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Now Scarlett, I don't want you to upset yourself none. We've got you back to health, but you still ain't full speed."

"Will Benteen, that's enough out of you!" Scarlett snapped.

"Alright, easy. This here telegram come from Ella. Don't you be upset now, Scarlett. Remember what you done with Suellen and that gentleman she was promised to…"

"What's Ella done, Will?" Scarlett's mouth thinned with disapproval. Surely Ella hadn't done something to get her thrown out of Pitty's house. She knew about the store, but Wade had reassured her that Ella was high in favor, not up to any mischief at all. Surely Ella wouldn't have run away with one of the clerks… "Will, tell me what's happened or I shall scream!"

Will pulled a neatly folded telegram out of his pocket, looked away, as if he was truly remiss about handing it over, then grudgingly gave it to Scarlett. To his surprise, Scarlett didn't yell and scream as he'd predicted. She held the telegram in her hand as if it were Holy Writ, stood up, quite calmly, and stated: "I'm going for a walk."

As he watched her thin frame walk across the lawn, head bowed, Will's heart ached for his sister-in-law. She'd already had so much unhappiness. Too much more, he didn't think even she could handle…

_Dear Mother. Mr. Wilkes and I are getting married next month. Stop. Please come if you are well and able. Stop. Very Happy. Love Ella. Stop._

Scarlett read the hideous telegram for the fiftieth time before she tossed it to the ground like a poisonous snake, smashing it with the point of her shoe. Ashley and Ella. Ella and Ashley. Ella was marrying Ashley. Ella was marrying Ashley without asking her mother's permission. The betrayal of her daughter hurt, but Ashley, she would have thought better of Ashley than to marry a seventeen year old child. 'When it's me that he wanted,' she thought to herself, 'and Ella will never be but a poor imitation of me-' Scarlett stopped herself from thinking anything else nasty about Ashley and Ella. 'Ashley was never mine. Not really. I should be happy for them, I should.'

Scarlett's heart felt as broken as it did the day at Twelve Oaks when she had foolishly thrown herself at Ashley's feet, begging him to choose her over Melanie, only this time, she knew that her pride was the source of her injury.

Ella was a good choice for him. She was sensible enough. She had wit and conversation enough to please him, and she owned strong and sturdy health. She could give him the passel of children Melly never could, and yet Ella wasn't harsh like Scarlett. Most of all, Ella had loved Melly, and would understand wholeheartedly Ashley's love for her. They were a perfect match, even Scarlett had to admit that. Rhett could never again accuse her of loving Ashley, not when sweet Ella was married to him. Melanie was never to be replaced and Ashley would be happy in his old age in the company of a tender and devoted wife, one who would make him rich with a dowry, Scarlett would see to that. As to her own slightly wounded pride, bruised over the fact that Ashley would consider Ella as an alternative to her and that Ella should enjoy happiness while she, Scarlett was doomed to prowl the earth like one possessed, always attempting to exorcize Rhett from her heart. But she wouldn't think about Rhett now…she would think about him tomorrow.

Far away from Tara, one Rhett Butler was making his way to one of General Beauregard's lavish parties to celebrate the rousing success of Louisiana's lottery.

"Suh?" Rhett's coachman was on loan from his hotel, and was making his way toward him with a sealed letter. "For you, suh. From a Mistah Ham'ton in 'Lanta."

Rhett nodded in thanks and hurriedly examined the letter's contents:

_Dear Mr. Butler,_

_It is with the most somber tone I remind you that you have enjoyed my unconditional love and affection throughout my childhood, although you became a distant figure to me as I matured to adulthood. I appreciated the kindness you showed me in my unhappy boyhood, but now Mr. Butler, I must sever all familial ties of affection. You have behaved abysmally toward my beloved Mother. You have subjected her to talk of scandal, and would have willingly broken her pride and spirit (not to mention her reputation, and consequently that of myself and my dear sister.) Your notions of honor are such, sir, that I cannot feel the need to lecture you on proper conduct of a gentleman towards his wife, and, understand this, sir, my Mother does not think herself as anything less than your wife for all the difficulties in your marriage. Your coarse and vile treatment of her at the Derby scarcely bears repeating. You have humiliated and made a mockery of her name amongst all matter of decent people; finally, if that insult was not grave enough, you sir, have insinuated that Mother and my beloved uncle committed adultery against you. Again, although the accusation is so base, deserving no credence at all, I feel the need to personally contradict it with facts. While it is true that Uncle Ashley once spoke of an honorable marriage with my mother, a marriage which would have been born out of his tender feelings of friendship for her, he withdrew his suit honorably and immediately after my Mother stated her desire to remain married to you. Now, I have it on good authority that my beloved Uncle Ashley has an understanding with another eligible young lady, planning to make her at once his wife. It has been a long time since I have witnessed him thusly happy, and it is only with our previous acquaintance in mind that I do not shoot you on sight the next times our paths cross, for it is a coward, sir, who accuses another man of the sins which have blackened Mr. Wilkes's sterling reputation. As to the matter of my Mother, while your marital affairs are private, your treatment of her in public is my business. If you agree to never see her again, leave her in peace, then I will consider your behavior a debt between us; if however, you seek my Mother out, seek to further humiliate her either with words or physical contact, or threaten to darken our family's door with your presence, please be advised, sir, that I am a fine shot. _

_Wade Hampton Hamilton _

"Damn," Rhett said aloud, losing all interest in the party.


	8. Mr and Mrs Wilkes

Chapter 8: Mr. and Mrs. Wilkes (The Misunderstanding)

'Damn you to hellfire everlasting, Scarlett O'Hara,' Rhett muttered as he disembarked from his train, surveying the Atlanta station. That letter from Wade Hampton had been too much for him to ignore entirely, first that Scarlett had the gall to refuse the elegant Mr. Wilkes's suit, furthermore that she was still calling herself _his_ wife. Rhett had left her a broken man the first time around, but perhaps she had changed-perhaps he had changed. At either rate, he had to placate Wade's affronted sense of honor before the stupid sickly boy challenged him to a duel.

Rhett chuckled to himself, wondering if he still possessed a steady enough hand to best a West Point graduate; he then remembered who Wade's father was and alleviated all presence of doubt from his mind. No, he would pay a call on Wade, inform him of his decision to take Scarlett back, then swear the boy to absolute secrecy. _What youngster doesn't love a conspiracy?_

Rhett pondered about the way Scarlett would melt when his arms wrapped around her, when he planted her lips with a thousand kisses; she was still young, perhaps they might even have more children-a brother for Wade, or even another beautiful girl, like his blessed Bonnie Blue.

Rhett thought a little guiltily about forgetting Ella. He always seemed to forget the girl existed. Hell, she would be seventeen or so by now. High time she found herself a husband. Although who would take the daughter of such a woman was beyond Rhett's imagination, good breeding aside, Scarlett had thoroughly ruined her children's chances.

The Peachtree house was open, Rhett's keen eyes noticed that instantly as they drove up to the monstrosity.

"Stop the carriage," Rhett said to his coachman, "wait for me here, I'll go to the law office right after I check something."

The windows were open, allowing the warm spring air to lighten up the house, the front door was ajar, and filled with bustling servants hastily carrying in parcels of dresses and Lord knows what else.

"Excuse me," Rhett grabbed the shoulder of a light-skinned Negro girl, startling her. "What's going on here? I understood Mrs. Butler to be in Tennessee at this very moment, not Atlanta."

The Negro girl shrugged her shoulders, her face owned not one flicker of recognition for the strange man. "She back, suh." The girl shrugged her shoulders and walked up the staircase. "Dilcey," she hollered, "there a man come downstairs. Say he want to talk to Miz Butler."

Dilcey! Rhett's heart leapt in happiness. Dilcey was one of Scarlett's people from Tara, she'd know him instantly, embrace him even. But Dilcey did not emerge from the upstairs bedroom, merely calling down to the girl: "Tell that man there are no visitors today, house has to be scrubbed fo' the weddin'. Mis' Ashley's instructions. Understand? Tell that trash that, Nan."

Rhett felt all air leave his body like a drowning man. He couldn't fathom anything but white rage. So he'd been lied to, again. Wade wouldn't have written such a speech just to spite him; no, Scarlett had plotted it, come crying to Wade just as she would have to poor old Charlie to get a reaction. Just to get him here to see her and her precious Ashley in their new happy love-nest. The nerve of that Scarlett, installing her paramour in their house. His house. _Bonnie's _house. He stormed out of the place like a whirlwind, forgetting his dignity and his panama hat. He left both in Scarlett's hideous home.

"Rhett!" a well-dressed man with a face he didn't quite know flagged him down. One of Scarlett's carpetbagger friends, no doubt. "Rhett, I had no idea you were in town. Miss Kennedy will be thrilled you could come to her wedding."

_Mrs. Kennedy, of course. She was always Mrs. Kennedy to those people, refusing to paint off the name from Frank's store. Wilkes and Kennedy, just as always. They can finally scrub off the Kennedy and just be Wilkes. Poor old Frank and Miss Melly are rolling over in their graves right now at the pair of them. _

"I am not here to see a wedding. Rather, I am here merely to pay a call upon my stepchildren, who I won't see sometime, as I plan on traveling out of the country for an extended period of time." _To Hell or to anywhere where I don't have to think about Mrs. Scarlett Wilkes. _"Good day to you." Rhett left the man dumbfounded as he stormed down the street like a madman.

"But…" the man muttered to himself, befuddled by Rhett Butler's strange behavior, "its your stepdaughter Miss Kennedy which is getting married."

The next day, Scarlett was placing her own veil upon her daughter's head. She was keenly aware of the tightness in her chest, although she certainly couldn't pin it on Ashley's shoulders, nor Ella's. They hadn't laid down and died like she had; silly little Ella had been stubborn and resilient and got the man she wanted-the man Scarlett thought that _she_ had wanted.

"Mother," Ella said softly. Scarlett was examining her own reflection. Ashley had once said that she would be unchanged to him at sixty years old; well, she was more than halfway there and she could see the passage of time upon her face clear as day. "Mother," Ella repeated.

"Yes, dearest?" Scarlett's green eyes met Ella's blue ones. _Frank's eyes. _

"I need to ask you if you mind. About Ashley, I mean. He told me that he once held you in high regard, but spoke of your friendship with Aunt Melly, and how you would never dishonor her memory, but I was-"

"Curious?" Scarlett finished. "Don't feel shame for asking, Ella. The gossipmongers would have never let you live it down once you're a married woman. Yes, I thought I loved Ashley. For a very, very long time, I thought that I was in love with the man. But I wasn't, Ella. Not with him; I was in love with the idea of him, with the world in which we both grew up. You didn't know him then, Ella, as I did. You've grown up with the man Ashley Wilkes is now, and if you love him, then you have my blessing."

Ella's eyes watered for a moment, but she held back her tears, saving them for a better use than spilling her heart out to her mother.

"May I ask one more question, Mother?"

"Of course, Ella."

"Do you think that Rhett might be here today?"

Scarlett's pulse raced again; as much as she wanted to retort 'of course not', the last thing she sought to do was to hurt Ella. It wouldn't do Ashley any good to see his bride bawling her eyes out over Rhett.

"I'm sure that Rhett would have wanted to be here, if he had known about it. But you know Rhett, he could be in Paris or London or Timbuktu for all we know." Scarlett attempted a wry smile, which Ella accepted. She felt so guilty; Ella should have had a father there, Frank or Rhett, either one, and it was her, Scarlett's, fault that Ella had neither.

Ella nodded with stoic acceptance. Rhett wasn't coming, and that was that. Ella smiled a grand smile, looking the part of a sweet and charming wife. Scarlett knew instinctively that this was no veneer, that Ella was overjoyed to be marrying Ashley. She also knew that Ashley wouldn't spend his first night in ten years as a husband sitting in an armchair. Ella owned plenty of charms, and Ashley was a man like the rest of them, for all that he was double Ella's age. Ashley's passions coupled with her daughter's inexperience with men. Fiddle-dee-dee. She knew firsthand about Ashley's passions, they had cost her everything.

She left Ella in the capable hands of Dilcey and Mammy, who was watery-eyed and sobbing something sounding like: "my lamb lookin' lak a lil lady." Scarlett adjusted her matronly rose-colored gown once more, examining the woman looking back at her in the mirror. That was not the belle of three counties, nor the woman who had scandalized all of Atlanta by chasing after a man she couldn't have. This was a respectable woman, attending her respectable daughter's wedding to a respectable man. For once, Scarlett found herself wishing that her mother could see her on this day. The chalet was adorned with fresh flowers, lillies and roses brought in from Savannah. The chandeliers sparkled and she could see her reflection in the mahogany handrails of the great staircase. Grandly, she made her way down the wide aisle of the staircase. She grasped the rail tightly, an unconscious instinct, for that was the same one she had tumbled down, losing her child. _Rhett's fault. Its Rhett's fault that there's not a little boy or girl here to see this day. _

Scarlett watched with a little bewilderment Ella's ascent down the stairs. She looked both graceful and beautiful, two words she had never before applied to the girl in a single sentence. Wade was her pride and joy, his arm was linked with his sister's, and he looked so splendid in his silk morning suit. Ashley was waiting in the front of the assembly; even the great big house seemed packed full of guests. All of Atlanta had turned out for the long-awaited Wilkes wedding. He had put on a brave face, shaking Beau's hand and waiting for his bride. _His bride. My daughter is his bride. It's too much._

Scarlett was numb as she heard Ashley's voice making his vows, and Ella's, so clear, without a single stammer. The day passed by with a chaste kiss between the couple, a series of toasts, then the short rest before the party honoring them at Aunt Pitty's. Dancing the night away was out of the question for the bride's mother, so Scarlett, miserable and alone, dutifully kissed her daughter and Ashley, and made her excuse and smiled her best smile. Wade offered to convey her home, but Scarlett insisted that a young man needed to spend the evening in the company of young people. So Scarlett, unenthusiastic, went back to the Peachtree house alone.

The decanter of brandy was available in the parlor; Scarlett knew that. The doctor had warned against drinking in her fragile mental state, and Scarlett was hardly ready to return to Sister Sue's care. Good as it was to be at Tara, the fact remained that Suellen was now the lady of the house and Scarlett an unwelcome outsider.

It sho' was a happy day, Miz Scarlett!" Dilcey cracked a wide smile. "Ole Mammy done drank a glass of sherry and was plumb tired. Had to tuck the ole gal in bed."

Scarlett returned Dilcey's smile. "How old is Mammy, Dilcey?"

Dilcey shrugged, "she was always braggin' how she diapered your Ma. I think she was lyin' 'bout that though. Even so, I 'pect she near eighty years."

Eighty! Scarlett thought. How horrible to be eighty! She was almost halfway there herself.

"Great balls of fire! Isn't it bad enough that we have to get old ourselves, Dilcey, but that we've got to watch everybody else do it, too?"

Scarlett collapsed on the divan, rubbing her temples.

"Oh Miz Scarlett, its part of life. Folks git old, ain't no getting round that, Miz Scarlett." Dilcey set a pillow down for Scarlett. "You rest now, Miz Scarlett. Oh sho'"

Dilcey stopped talking and marched over to the hat-rack. "One of them gentlemen left this hat."

Scarlett's eyes widened. "Dilcey. Tell me what gentleman wore that panama hat today."

"Lord, Miz Scarlett, I don' know rightly. It's a fine hat though. Gentleman who left it'll be back for it."

"I knows who it is!" Nan announced herself rather rudely. Under different circumstances, Scarlett might have noticed that the girl smelled strongly of sherry. "Dark, handsome gent-man came day 'fore yes'day. Lookin' for Miz Scarlett. And Dilcey done tole me plain as day. She say, tell that trash to git. Mis' Ashley don' want nobody in here while we's cleanin' the place."

"Dilcey! You didn't say that, please tell me?" Scarlett shook Dilcey forcefully.

"I never seen the man, Miz Scarlett!" Dilcey defended herself.

"It was Rhett, you fool!" Scarlett loosened her hold on Dilcey as the situation dawned on her. Rhett had been here. Rhett had wanted her back. _And now he thinks I'm Ashley's wife_!

Scarlett racked her brain with considerations. Where would Rhett go? Who would he turn to? Charleston. Her Aunts Eulalie and Pauline had written her twice that Rhett's mother was ill; and wouldn't she please call on the poor woman like a devoted daughter-in-law? She would. She would grovel in front of Rhett's mother and brother and sister and Rhett himself for that matter if it meant him taking her back.


	9. Of Travels and Long Lost Relatives

Chapter 9: Of Travels and Long Lost Relatives

Scarlett had been delayed in chasing after Rhett by an illness of her own, which Wade of course picked up and took twice as long as she to recover from. In the throng of activity, Ella had announced that she was pregnant, expecting her first child in October.

While Scarlett was genuinely happy for Ashley and her daughter, she was unwilling to twiddle her thumbs at the Sewing Circle with the other matrons to discuss the topic of Ella's pregnancy ailments. So, she again set out to make the trip to Charleston, confident that Ella was probably better off without her hovering like a vulture.

She had only met Rhett's mother once, when the senior dame made a short visit to Atlanta, so she was quite surprised that a note inviting her to tea was waiting for her in her hotel room. Scarlett wanted to look the part of a fine Charleston lady, and made a pretty picture in her newest dress, made from lovely blue taffeta. Gracefully, she disembarked from her carriage and was escorted into Rhett's childhood...

This day, Mrs. Butler was grandly adorned in lacey finery, her white hair pulled up into a graceful bun. Her heart-shaped face owned few lines, for all that she had suffered at the hands of Rhett's father. Rhett had told her of the strained relationship between his parents in a rare, unguarded moment, and she felt a keen kinship to Mrs. Butler, who was holding court in her grand house on the Battery.

"Dear Scarlett!" Mrs. Butler kissed Scarlett's cheek, "I declare, you're the image of Ellen Robillard. My dear child."

Scarlett rolled her eyes slightly at the praise, knowing full well that she didn't resemble her mother in the slightest.

"Have you spoken to my son?" Mrs. Butler said hopefully.

"He's on business," Scarlett said automatically, her hope of Rhett being in Charleston fading by the moment.

"He was here only a week ago," Rhett's mother smiled kindly, as if sensing Scarlett's discomfort. "He had to leave rather quickly. It was all very untoward. He seemed…troubled."

"I fear that there was a misunderstanding…" Scarlett said gingerly, not wanting to reveal any more unsavory meat for the Charleston gentry to devour.

"Yes," Mrs. Butler took another sip of her tea. "I believe there might have been. Eulalie called upon me just yesterday with the news you'd be coming… And I understand that your dear daughter has been lately married."

"Oh yes," Scarlett attempted to smile through her misery. "Ella married Mr. Ashley Wilkes not quite four months ago."

"Mr. Wilkes…your brother by your marriage to your first husband?" Mrs. Butler queried, then continued at Scarlett's affirmative nod. "A fine match. I was so saddened when Melanie Hamilton passed away; she was a dear. My son always spoke so very highly of her."

"Indeed," Scarlett said hoarsely.

"Scarlett, might I be frank, darling? While I am happy to receive you, and I'm certain Pauline and Eulalie will be thrilled at your visit, forgive me, but I'm not sure what you're doing here. I might have understood it ten years ago, or even five. My dear, I believe that this prolonged…struggle…between you and Rhett must cease. Your marriage is failed, and I see very little point in resurrecting it now."

Rhett's mother's words cut Scarlett to the quick. Much as she wanted to wring the old woman's neck, she politely smiled and stated. "Of course. My only intention in coming, besides to pay call on my dear aunts, and you of course, was to visit my nephew Beau. He's just started his own shipping business. In fact, I believe it was Rhett wrote the necessary letters of introduction; it was very kind of him."

Rhett's mother looked as though she had swallowed something distasteful, but still embraced Scarlett and implored her to make use of her house for a good, long visit, as she and Rosemary were going visiting in Savannah. Scarlett kept her manners intact and asked her mother-in-law to please call upon her elderly Grandpa Robillard. When Rhett's mother said that she would be glad to do it, Scarlett kissed her again and said goodbye. As her carriage pulled out of the drive, Scarlett's heart sank and she prepared for another summer without Rhett. Scarlett felt as if she stood high upon a precipice, with no one behind her to pull her back from jumping, yet having none to catch her should she fall. But she was here in Charleston, a great deal more exciting place than Tara and a great deal less painful than Atlanta; she would make the best of it.

Scarlett had a note sent to Beau to inform him of her presence in Charleston, but she had not expected him to be waiting for her outside the gates of the Butler's home. He was smartly dressed and driving a serviceable looking rig.

"Climb into this buggy, Aunt Scarlett; we're due for some rotten weather!" Beau grinned, "I want to show you what I've been up to before it starts raining and we have to spend all our time indoors. Don't worry, I'll drive you back."

Scarlett, aware that she was that the gentry of Charleston were even more staid than Atlanta and would likely take offense about a married woman in the buggy of a nineteen-year-old boy, took Beau's hand and climbed in his rig. He was more handsome than Ashley had been at that age, Scarlett thought. His coloring was fair like his father's, but his skin was browned from sun exposure. Even under his jacket, Scarlett could make out firm muscles and his hands were large and powerful.

"What are you thinking, Aunt Scarlett?"

"I'm thinking that I feel about a hundred years old, Beauregard Wilkes."

"You look the same to me. Lovely as ever. Whoa." Beau pulled hard on his horse's rein and hopped out of the rig, handing the reins to a waiting black man. "Down we go, Aunt Scarlett." Beau held onto Scarlett's arm as they walked around the port of Charleston, pointing out the various ships and the exports they carried. "That one there takes Will's cotton to England. And that great big one, that one brings you the very silk that's used to make your dress."

"How did you get the idea for this, Beau?" Scarlett wondered aloud, "I know Ashley had a fit that you left college…"

"I'll get around to finishing one of these days. I thought you of all people would understand, Aunt Scarlett. I don't want to spend my life in the lumber mill like Father. And I certainly have no farming skills, and even if we had the money to make Twelve Oaks serviceable again, we'd have to put up with sharecroppers…this was a chance to do something different. You know, exciting?"

Scarlett certainly understood that; however her affirmation of Beau's career choice was delayed by the arrival of one Julian Ross, the swarthy faced stranger who Wade had revealed as Rhett's ward.

"What's he doing here?"

"Julian? My business partner. He's the money behind my brains."

"I thought I was both," Julian laughed heartily, "get out of here, Beau. You've got a load of cotton to check; damned stuff all looks the same to me."

"Take Aunt Scarlett back to her hotel, will you? I'll be by later to escort you to dinner." With a quick kiss on the cheek, Beau was off, and Scarlett was left alone with Julian. She gave him a lingering look of distaste. "I can call for a carriage myself."

"In Charleston? This isn't Atlanta, ma'am, I'm afraid you'll be waiting all day. Come on. I don't bite."

"I don't think it proper to be seen riding with a man not a member of my family," Scarlett stated primly.

"As you wish," Julian smirked, "I prefer walking anyway."

Scarlett looked down at her fashionable high-heeled boots. "Well…I suppose it couldn't hurt…"

"Lovely," Julian appeared to be on the verge of an outburst of laughter. "Carriage is this way."

"I remember."

"Have I done something to offend you?" Julian looked genuinely curious.

"Of course not," Scarlett snapped, "I hardly know you."

"A sad fact, I think, considering our multitude of mutual acquaintances. I've long heard tales of your great beauty. What a pity that its been so ill-appreciated."

"That's much too far, Mr. Ross!"

"Apologies, ma'am. You must understand that I grew up in New Orleans. We're not known for our propriety. And I suppose that I never took Scarlett O'Hara for a shrinking violet."

Scarlett stopped in her tracks. "How do you know me? Please don't insult me and say Beau."

"Certainly not. I assumed you knew. Your husband Rhett is my legal guardian. It just seemed logical that we might have met before last spring at the Derby. I never congratulated you about your horse's win, come to think of it…"

"Forgive me, Mr. Ross-"

"Julian, please."

"Fine. Julian. What gives you the idea that I would want to meet Rhett's…" Scarlett lowered her voice, "…natural son?"

Julian's eyes widened as he comprehended her meaning. "No, no, no. Oh Scarlett. Miss Scarlett. Mrs. Butler. Again, you misunderstand me. Rhett's not my father. I mean, he's been as good as one. He looked to my interests as a favor to my Ma. I've not seen her since I was little, but she's a good friend of his. Her reputation's a little…shady."

Julian's face cracked a huge smile, "so you see, Scarlett, we can be friends now that you know. Hell, Rhett's been in love with you for so long, I wonder he's not dead of heartbreak. But you're a nice lady, I always knew that deep down. Bonnie's Ma had to be real nice."

Noting Scarlett's face going pale, Julian put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "I didn't mean to upset you, not for a minute. I just felt so bad when Bonnie passed. He let me meet her once, you see. She was a little beaut'. I always felt like I knew you though. Rhett would tell me stories about you, and they always seemed real…but for the fact that he let me think for years that you kept a white elephant for a pet. Beau finally cleared that up for me." Julian smiled his wide smile then glanced at the grey sky. "I hate to cut this short, but the sky looks foul. It would be a pity for that fine dress to be soaked. I'll call for my Negro, Bill, to carry you to up my house. That hotel's all glass…not too safe if we get an August gale come up. Unless you have a mind to go back to the Butlers'."

Scarlett shook her head, "fiddle-dee-dee. The clouds don't look that bad, and I'm so awfully tired."

"I insist, Scarlett-may I call you Scarlett-you have to go to a house. Any house."

"Fine," Scarlett sniffed, "could he take me to my Aunt Eulalie's?"

"Yes ma'am. You stay there, now. I don't like those clouds. Beau or I'll come get you when its all over. Promise?"

Scarlett nodded in acquiescence and met the carriage and the waiting Bill; she felt positively like she was being ordered about by Rhett. As she waved goodbye to Julian, she felt like weeping, knowing now that she had single-handedly managed to hurt Rhett again by jumping to conclusions…this time, she wasn't sure that he would take her back in the end…and she wasn't sure that she deserved to be taken back.

Back in Atlanta, Rhett was weary from his long train ride, so much so that he caught a nap from the depot to Ivy Street, intentionally keeping his eyes tightly shut as his coachman passed the Wilkes house. He'd made a point to keep himself perpetually drunk on trip from New Orleans, not wanting to feel anything in particular, but most especially not anything about Scarlett and her new husband. So they'd outsmarted him, using that antiquated ten year abandonment rule and she got to walk. Free and clear, and still spending his money like mad according to his solicitor. That was over. He was going to stroll into Wade Hampton's office and announce that that woman and her lover were not going to receive a penny more of his money. He'd give the boy the chance to shoot him after he'd finished his piece, and if the brat succeeded, dying sounded preferable to living at the moment.

"Butler! Rhett Butler!"

Rhett opened his eyes, squinting in the summer sun, but making out the face of old man Merriwether, a gentlemen of the Old Guard whose acquaintance he had not shared since before the very first time he left Scarlett for good.

"Good day," Rhett drowsily rubbed his eyes, not noticing at first where his buggy had stopped.

"To what does Atlanta owe the honor of your presence, sir?" old man Merriwether's tone suggested that Rhett's presence was a curse rather than a blessing.

"I'm here to see my stepson," Rhett disembarked from the rig, motioning for his coachman to wait while he conducted his business. "We have quite a few words to exchange."

The old man's weathered face grimaced. "I was hoping that wouldn't be the case, Captain Butler. Wade Hamilton is the finest young man in the city, and so help me sir, if your intentions toward him are dishonorable you will hear about it from all of us!"

Rhett chuckled, "I'm pleased to see the boy has such advocates in you fine people. Tell me, Mr. Merriwether, before you judge my intentions, sir, would you answer me a question? Is it now considered taboo for the wronged husband to start a fight with the man who stole his wife?"

At Mr. Merriwether's look of horror, Rhett was both well pleased with himself and preparing to tell Wade Hampton Hamilton just what he thought of him and all the rest of them when he heard the voice of a female calling his name. For one witnessing the row in the street, he or she might have observed that at the sound of that voice Captain Butler took on the appearance of a man who had seen grim Death.

"Uncle Rhett!"

Standing in the threshold of Kennedy and Wilkes Emporium was none other than Ella Lorena Kennedy, plainly dressed and pale, looking remarkably pretty but rather thick around the middle. Leaving poor Mr. Merriwether stewing on the sidewalk, Rhett hastened up the steps like a madman, embracing the shocked looking Ella and kissing her on the forehead.

"Can we talk?" Rhett whispered.

Ella nodded, casting one pitying glance at Mr. Merriwether and ushering her stepfather through the store and to the backroom where the fabric was kept.

"Whatever are you doing here, Uncle Rhett?" Ella placed her hands on her hips, pursing her lips prettily, in a way which did her mother a credit. "If you're planning on going to see Wade and you upset him, so help me God I'll-"

"Shut up. You know I have no quarrel with your brother. I want to talk some sense into his inflated head. What's happened to you, anyway? Why isn't your darling brother off killing the bastard who put you in this predicament? And he's letting you work in this damn store to boot?"

Ella's nostrils flared with indignation. "For your information, this store is _my_ inheritance from my father. Its as much my place as anyone else's. Mother's been half ill from the way you treated her-as though she were slime you wiped off of your boots. Wade had a good mind to take off and shoot you. He would have made good on it too, if Mother had allowed it."

Before Rhett could muster a satisfactory retort, Ella continued.

"Furthermore, sir, as you brought up my-" she lowered her voice so as not to be heard by the clerks, "_condition_, I would have you know, Rhett Butler, that I have been married for nearly half a year. A fact which you might have known if you hadn't abandoned us!"

With that, Ella took off, interrupting a conversation between a clerk and Mrs. Meade, demanding flatly that the widow abandon her reservations about credit.

"You pay me what you can, when you can, ma'am," Ella smiled. "Your good works are a credit to us all, Mrs. Meade. Yes ma'am, I'll see you at the Sewing Circle tomorrow."

The widow's pleasure in Ella's words were evident, and even Rhett had to admit that Mrs. Meade didn't look the least bit appalled to be conversing with Miss Kennedy in her own shop. _Miss Kennedy is Mrs. Something, now, wonder which of the respectable boys Scarlett finagled for her to marry?_

Rhett's mouth dropped; not all the alcohol in the world could have stiffened him for what walked in the door. Ashley Wilkes, looking shabby but quite pleased with himself, had made his appearance. For a long moment, Rhett watched like a cat in the darkness waiting to pounce. He watched closely as his enemy greeted Mrs. Meade as though he were still Master of Twelve Oaks. He noted the gay look upon Ashley Wilkes's face, the unconstrained manner in which he spoke, the familial kiss he bestowed upon Ella…Rhett rubbed his eyes again, violently. That kiss, chaste and befitting a public place as it was, was not the kiss of a loving stepfather to his stepdaughter. That kiss owned passion and thickness and…Rhett was revolted. Was it not enough for Ashley to have Scarlett, that he'd turned his attentions toward the daughter as well? The honorable Wilkes would die for this insult.

"Ashley Wilkes!" Rhett emerged from the shadows. "Outside."

Ashley looked a little frightened, but placed a restraining hand on Ella's shoulder. Ella had gone in an instant from pink-cheeked and rosy to having angry red blotches upon her face. Hands upon her hips, she let out a yell that would have terrified even Sherman.

"How dare you? How dare you come into my store-mine-which my father and mother built and which I maintain without your charity? How dare you seek out my brother in the hope of embarrassing him publicly? I can't believe that you'd risk giving him a fit! And for what end but to punish him for defending Mother's honor? I could forgive you for hurting Mother, for shaming Ashley and myself, but not Wade! We've done nothing to you, ever, sir! And now, with no regard for my feelings whatsoever, you insult my husband in my presence! Get out, Rhett Butler! Get out of here!"

A look of horror crossed Rhett Butler's face as he realized his mistake. "Your husband?"

With Ashley's nod of confirmation, Rhett's eyes rolled to the back of his head, as if mind and body had stopped communicating. His huge frame went down like an oak tree, crashing into Ella's prized bone china display and causing her to scream, a scream which, thankfully for Rhett, he did not hear.


	10. The Hurricane

Chapter 10: The Hurricane

On the morning of the 28th of August, a heavy gale arose in Atlanta, coming out of the northwest. It increased steadily until its velocity reached fifty miles an hour. With less steadiness this gale would have been dangerous to life and property, but it rose slowly, maintained its greatest velocity for some hours, and then gradually subsided. The heel of the weathervane, veering slowly from the southeast to the east, pointed in the direction of the great disturbance, central in the Bahamas, and heading for the Atlantic coast.

The gale that had passed over Atlanta was rushing to that center and feeding the tremendous hurricane that swept up the South Atlantic coast during the night and fell upon the city of Charleston. Scarlett and her elderly aunts, Pauline and Eulalie, huddled together like frightened rabbits. For a day and night the mighty Atlantic raged, the rain kept pouring and pouring until Scarlett was sure that they would all drown in it. The winds from the sea swept through Charleston with such a force and with such a noise, Scarlett was convinced that it was the Yankee March to the Sea come back for her.

The August hurricane was not unexpected. In fact it had been heralded, and for at least three days before it made its appearance warnings had been given. After all, a storm in the South Atlantic and Gulf coasts is no new experience to the people who live near the sea, nor even to the people who live far inland. It is a part of the climate, belonging to expectation. They sweep along the coasts, or go raging inland, sometimes in the shape of a whirling cyclone, and sometimes in the shape of a roaring hurricane. And the effects of them are felt hundreds of miles in all directions, even when they fail to break across the coast-line barriers. No sooner do they feel that preparations for one are going forward in the tropics than they hurry to join and feed the monstrous riot of the elements. And so wildly do they rush and tear along in their haste to become part of the whirl and swirl in the tropics, that trees and houses fall before them.

For Scarlett and her aunts, the agonizing wait was capitulated by the fact that the house shook with every wind gust, as though the wind was roguishly playing rock-a-bye baby in the tree-tops. She sobbed for Beau and Julian, who were likely out in the weather rather than the relative safety of the indoors; but later retracted the good thoughts slightly, when Eulalie and Pauline insisted upon bringing their feather mattresses downstairs for greater safety. The wind kept howling and the house shook frantically and Scarlett huddled close to her two aunts, thinking that they were doomed. A long ago sermon she had heard about the end of the world came to mind; indeed the events of her life flashed before eyes.

Rhett's mother and sister were lucky, Scarlett thought with a stab of bitterness. They were smart to have gone visiting in Savannah. Scarlett didn't know what upset her the most, that she was about to die without telling Rhett how she really felt or that she was going to die with Pauline and Eulalie wrapped around her like a couple of old peahens. She fantasized about being found dead, by Beau, Julian, or Wade or by Ashley or even by Rhett himself. The waters started coming into the house on the third day of hard rain, rising to knee deep by noon. Scarlett and her old aunts took to their places on top of the furniture, watching with horror as water seeped through the window sills. By the fourth day, Scarlett wished she were dead. The water would be well above her knees were she to stand in it. 'Is this it?' Scarlett asked herself with horror, sobbing slightly as Pauline fainted, only revived at Eulalie's slap. 'Am I going to die, here, now?'

Hushed and grim, Scarlett and her aunts waited for the roof to be blown off, or for the water to rush the door and it all to be over; however, the onslaught never came. As if nature held out a white flag, the rain ceased and the wind quieted. Scarlett closed her eyes, promising God that she would not make a muck out of this chance at life.

It was two more days before Scarlett, Pauline, and Eulalie were rescued. Even Scarlett could have quite happily kissed the man in the navy-blue uniform, for all that he was a Yankee soldier. Scarcely a bush or a tree was left in Charleston, and every other house was missing a roof. The Yankee soldiers who were sent to find survivors wandered about aimlessly in the wasted city, finding only a few lonely and heart-broken women and old men to call upon them for aid. Worst of all, the people of Charleston were not able to bury their dead, remains of whom laid in ghastly heaps around them, bloated from water and exposure. The air reeked of dead fish and seawater, but the smell worsened a hundredfold under the scorching late summer sun. 220 souls in all were lost, numbers unheard of since the war; indeed, Scarlett privately thought that this was worse than war, for at least then the Charlestonians had someone to blame for their suffering. Who could they blame for a hurricane-God?

"Scarlett!" Beau Wilkes's face was swollen, his lips blue, and he was wrapped in a threadbare blanket, but he was alive.

"Beau!" Scarlett screamed with joy, "oh Beau! Beau! I was so worried, darling Beau!"

"If I can survive a passel of damn Yankees, don't you think I can survive a little ole storm?" Beau grinned widely. "My business is bust for awhile. No traffic in or out of the harbor. Of course, I'm just glad I was in the office grading cotton...I would normally have been out in it. This was the worst gale ever to hit Charleston, and I just was praying that you hadn't gone back to the hotel. My God, Aunt Scarlett, the whole place caved in…all that glass. But you're safe, none of that matters."

Scarlett's mind leapt to the reason why she had not been back to the hotel.

"Julian made me go to my aunts'. I must thank him, Beau. I'd be dead if not for him."

Beau's smile disappeared, and his color waned. "Aunt Scarlett…Julian…"

"No."

"He's…Aunt Scarlett, he's…"

"No! NO! NO!" Scarlett's eyes filled with hot tears. She collapsed into Beau's arms, "he can't be, Beau. He's Rhett's…Rhett loves him."

"I know, Aunt Scarlett," Beau's voice quivered, sounding for a moment like a child again. "He was on the docks. Directing ships, trying to batten down the hatches…He loved the sea…he…"

"Don't tell me anymore!" Scarlett screamed.

"Easy, Scarlett. Listen to me. Listen. We take risks every single day, you hear? Any of us could go at any moment, but we make the best of it, don't we? I didn't learn that from my father or my dear mother, God rest her. I learned it from you. Julian was like that too. You're not helping him any by crying, Aunt Scarlett."

"You don't understand, Beau! He was so kind to me. Even though I was nasty to him. If not for him I would have gone back to the hotel. I would have d-d-died! If you hadn't traded places with him, he never would have walked me out…and he never would have been in the storm."

"No, Scarlett. He would have been there."

"I killed him, Beau. I thought he was Rhett's son and I hated him for it!"

"Shush, Aunt Scarlett. Look at me…you did not kill Julian."

Scarlett's green eyes met Beau's brown ones. _Melly's eyes_. For a moment, Scarlett thought she was looking upon Melly herself.

"It's always me. It's a curse…I ruin people. Pa and Mother. My first two husbands, Rhett, Bonnie!" She stopped her speech as she remembered who she was talking to, and burst into fresh tears.

"No. You're wrong about that. Mother always said that you were the most loving and kindest lady who ever lived."

"Melly would say that about a she-goat!"

"I don't believe that, Scarlett. Mother was a saint on earth but she was also shrewd. She could read folks, their intentions…Oh Aunt Scarlett, please don't cry. What did you tell me when Mother died, when a screaming nine-year-old boy was thrust in your lap? You must remember. Fine, I'll tell you. You said that I could cry all I wanted for Mother today, but that tomorrow was another day, and Mother would be very disappointed to see me sad another day. Well I'm saying that to you, Auntie. Tomorrow is another day."

Back in Atlanta, Rhett had woken up with a head the size of a melon. That much he could tell without even looking at a mirror. He gingerly put a hand to his chin. Just as he had suspected, there was several days worth of beard growth on his face; he'd been out for quite some time. It wasn't an uncommon occurrence for him, to wake up in a strange bedroom. Hell, New Orleans was always filled with accommodating new beauties willing to show him a good time. He'd eventually awake from the night of wanton stupor, usually finding a half-clothed Venus at the edge of the bed, enamored by his looks or his money or both. He must have needed a drink, badly, as there was a dreadful looking apparition in his room, one that looked suspiciously like…

"Ashley?" Rhett managed to croak, in a voice not his own.

The honorable Mr. Wilkes was struggling to maintain a polite and dignified stance, and yet, even Rhett noted the man's obvious disdain for him.

"Are you feeling better today, Rhett?" Ashley attempted civility.

Rhett was not impressed, and remembered nothing of their encounter. There was something about Ella…something about her that reminded him of Scarlett. "Mr. Wilkes, as much as I'd enjoy a nice chat and a mint julep and your delightful company, the very sight of you makes me want to vomit. Furthermore, if I could move my arms, I would shoot you for the being the sniveling coward you always have been and intend to do so as soon as I am able."

If Ashley was offended by this outburst he didn't show it, only gracing Rhett with a wry smile. "Might I inquire as to my offense, sir?"

Rhett rubbed his eyes and attempted to sit up in bed, failing dismally. "You always had a hold on Scarlett's mind. And the moment your poor wife is dead, you have a hold on her body. I've seen the way you look at her. I know the way your mind works, Wilkes, your honorable breed. You waited to make your move until you could claim an act of chivalry-save the damsel in distress from her brute of a husband. Dare you deny it?"

"Indeed, Rhett. I've always said that you and I are fundamentally alike. I've even shared this with Scarlett. And I do not deny that I desired heartily to save her from you. You've already spoken of her body and mind, but failed to mention her greatest asset."

Rhett's silence emboldened Ashley and he carried on.

"Her spirit, Rhett, is what makes Scarlett so fine and strong and beautiful. She has always done exactly as she pleased, with or without anyone's by your leave…until she met you. You are her soul's counterpoint, and I swear to you, if you allow that love to remain stagnant, then you will be the most tragic figure the world has ever seen, and I shall pity you all the more. But so help me God, Rhett Butler, I have never wronged you with intent. On my honor as a gentleman, I vow that Scarlett has loved you and only you these past ten years; never once was she tempted by any other man; and never could she be prevailed upon to divorce you, even when those who loved her pleaded with her to let you go once and for all."

Ashley looked triumphant, as if he had rid himself of a heavy burden.

"Go to hell, Ashley Wilkes," Rhett bellowed. "To the devil with you for your lies. Scarlett is as incapable of change as Charleston."

"Ashley!" a scream sounded from outside Rhett's small bedroom, wherever it was that they were holding him hostage. A terrified looking Ella, still pregnant (so he hadn't dreamt that part) and still screaming, thrust a newspaper at Ashley, whose face turned white.

"Let me guess," Rhett muttered aloud, "Scarlett's made the headlines."

Ella's temper snapped her out of her tantrum. "Mother went to Charleston to find you, you heartless bastard. There's been a hurricane. Charleston is leveled and most of the town's been killed. If Mother is dead then it's on your conscience."

With that, Ella whirled out of the room, dragging Ashley behind her. Rhett was left alone, only feeling well enough to sob like a baby.


	11. Enter Belle Watling

Chapter 11: Enter Belle Watling

Belle Watling was a creature of darkness. Long ago, disinherited by her family, she had snuck away from her home in the dead of night to give birth to a baby boy, conceived nine months earlier on a similar late night excursion. Where some girls might have been tempted to drown the baby in the river or drop it off at a church or a home of a kindly looking family, Belle had had a mind to keep the mewling, squalling thing. Even if she had no way to care for him on her own, she would see that he was well and safe. With the help of Rhett, he had grown up a good boy. He had been educated as she had not been. He was brave and handsome and sent her little presents and letters from his sea ventures. Her heart was even more warmed when he had told her of a new friend, one Beauregard Wilkes. The knowledge that her Julian and the sainted Miss Melly's son were equals was comforting to Belle, who had loved Melanie Wilkes and never had leave to mourn her as was fitting. Now, her baby boy was dead. She didn't even have a letter telling her the specifics; no, Belle only had a newspaper heralding the devastation in Charleston. There were two hundred twenty-one names on the page, Belle had painstakingly read each of them aloud as if she were saying a rosary. The one hundred fifty-third one was her baby: _Captain Julian Robert Ross, Sea captain, 26; Deceased. _

For the first time in twenty years, Belle had closed up shop and told the girls to stay out of her way. She needed to grieve, and mull things over.

"Belle!" Rhett's voice called from the downstairs entrance.

"Comin' hon'," Belle dried her eyes to meet him, embracing her old friend.

"I'm so sorry, Belle. I heard about…"

"I knew you would," Belle tried to smile, "I half 'spected you'd bang that door down when you heard. I knew you loved him, like I did."

"I did," Rhett bowed his head, "and you know…you know that I know what it is to lose a child."

"Baby, I know that." Belle stroked Rhett's arm soothingly. "You had any word from Scarlett?"

Rhett knew that only the scope and tragedy of the occasion could have influenced Belle to call Scarlett by her name. He shook his head and Belle nodded.

"Maybe she weren't even there. Maybe she and that sweetheart Wilkes boy got out of town before the storm came. I wont lie to yah, Rhett, I wished mighty hard that she was dead. She's done you so bad and Miz Wilkes so bad…it don't seem right that my boy died and she…"

"Scarlett has a strange knack for surviving…" Rhett's voice trailed off as he recalled Scarlett driving Melanie, Prissy, and the two little boys to Tara right through the Yankee line. He had left her then and she had made it; he had left her high and dry and she had made it through this. Scarlett was as constant as a star; she would only bow to death when she was damn good and ready.

"You need to go to her, Rhett," Belle said sagely.

"My place is here," he replied earnestly.

"I need to be by mahself," Belle took his hand, "nothing you say can bring my boy back. You ain't getting no younger, Rhett. You need to patch things up with Scarlett before its too late."

"There ain't no patchin' things up," Rhett tried to get a smile out of Belle, but was met only with a sympathetic smile.

"You yelled and screamed and you've grieved over that baby for too long. You know that there ain't gonna be another woman for you. If you don't go up there and tell her that, you're gonna get old and fat and eventually die alone like a dog. Now. You git."

"As always, Belle," Rhett kissed her hand, "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Git!" Belle smiled, thinking as she watched him go, that she might well be ready to turn her sporting house over to one of the eager, younger gals; head out west and start over…maybe look around for her own true love.

Meanwhile, Scarlett was applying herself to nursing with a passion she had never had during the war. She fed soup to the displaced persons until she could barely stand, boiled water for drinking and for bathing, and dispensed the medicine the Yankee soldiers had brought from further inland. Beau attempted to leave the makeshift camp outside the town to examine the devastation to his ships in the harbor , but was turned away due to the stench.

"They're worried that fish aren't the only things dead on the beach," he told Scarlett wearily. They learned quickly that the convent had been decimated, along with the sisters who resided there. 'Dear sweet Careen,' Scarlett said a quick prayer to her little sister, 'I'm glad you're with Brent and Stu and Mother and Pa and Melly and Bonnie and all the rest of them.'

Watching her aunts fuss over their ruined home would normally have irked Scarlett, who found such frivolous concerns superficial when compared with the tragedy of so many lost lives; however, she empathized with them and also felt the slightest bit of sympathy for Rhett. The heartbreaking wreckage of Charleston was compounded by the fact that Rhett had been a boy here, and now, it laid on the brink of obliteration. Pauline and Eulalie insisted upon writing to Rhett's mother, who they loudly protested would be in hysterics with worry, and they encouraged her none too gently to write to Rhett himself. 'Would that I could, Aunties,' Scarlett thought to herself, 'if I knew where to reach him…'

Scarlett awoke early the next morning to boil more water. The doctors had said that it was a miracle they'd not all contracted cholera, so small was the amount of uncontaminated water available. Her long black hair hung in waves down her back, her once fine blue dress was devoid of all color: the saltwater had bleached it. The bustle was gone entirely, and the smart hem was torn to allow her greater movement. The sleeves too were ragged from her hard work, and her skin was beginning to freckle from sun exposure. _Its mighty nice for God to set up there burning us up in this heat after he damn near drowned us all in the rain._ Scarlett wiped the sweat off of her brow, and thought briefly about Ashley and Ella. Ella would be well into her pregnancy by now; and she, Scarlett, should have been there to help her. Fiddle-dee-dee, Scarlett thought, Ella was _her _daughter, the picture of health. She was needed in Charleston right now. If she died of cholera, then that would be her penance. She had scoffed at suffering people before; she wouldn't shirk her duty this time.

"Mrs. Butler, I presume."

Scarlett's eyes made out a figure in a white suit, handsome and dashing, and wholly not a figment of her imagination.

"Rhett." Scarlett's heart threatened to beat out of her chest. "I knew you would come."

"I came to take you home," Rhett said, a little lamely. Scarlett was still attempting to carry the pot of boiling water. "Do you…would you like some help with that?"

Scarlett met his eyes. "I'm stronger than I look."

"I would be a fool to argue with that. Scarlett, if I may. Please, I've not slept in thirty-six hours, I've spent a great deal of money getting past the military barricade parked outside to find you, and I would be most grateful if you'd listen to my proposition."

Scarlett set her water down. "What is it, Rhett?"

"I suffered a loss myself, during this…tragedy. A young man that I-"

"I know," Scarlett interrupted, placing a hand on his arm. "I know you have. I met him, Rhett, before he died, he…he was brave."

"He was." Rhett acknowledged. "Scarlett. When Ella told me you were here, I almost died myself. I couldn't bear it if we were parted without me saying this to you. I'm sorry that it took me ten years and these circumstances to say it."

"Go on."

"Scarlett, I would like to apologize for my behavior toward you, and Ashley, and Wade and Ella and everyone else I've slighted or let down. Ashley's an honorable man, and the far better one of the two of us. Ella's lucky to have him. And you're lucky to have her and Wade. And they are far luckier to have you. You've changed, Scarlett. Not because of me or anything else…you've finally grown up, my dear."

"Thank you," Scarlett said calmly, unwilling to betray her feelings, "Is that...is that all, Rhett?"

Rhett's eyes met Scarlett's hungrily, "I've missed you, Scarlett."

"I've missed you too, Rhett."

Rhett approached her, closer than he had been in the past ten years. He had made certain of that; all those visits, all those 'chance' encounters, that he had kept her at arm's length. She owned a scent that thrilled and intoxicated him. He cupped her face in one large hand, then set his mouth down upon hers. She yielded, falling into his arms in easy submission. For a glorious moment, he realized what it was to kiss her with no Ashley in between them. Then, she broke away without warning.

"There are sick people. The water. I have to go." Scarlett heaved her iron kettle and began to walk back towards the camp, leaving behind her Rhett Butler, a man humbled.


	12. Concerning All Things Family

Chapter 12: Of All Things Concerning the Family

Summer had faded into fall, and Scarlett had seen to it that her aunts were relocated to Savannah with her diminutive but still sharp as a tack Grandpa Robillard. Oddly enough, they had been rather nice about the whole ordeal, telling anyone who would listen the embellished version of Scarlett trekking over miles of open country to find them fresh food and clean water during the hurricane's aftermath. Even Mrs. Butler accepted the story with quiet dignity, casually ignoring the fact that her son had been there, seen Scarlett, and had left, apparently with neither a divorce or a reconciliation. Despite Eulalie and Pauline's pleas that Scarlett remain with them in Savannah, the first week of October promised an event which Scarlett would not have missed for all the world.

Scarlett's first impression of her newborn grandchild was that she was unremarkable; however, the more she kissed the little thing and smelt its own sweet breath, ran her hands through the peach fuzz on top of the newborn's head, and felt its tiny fist close around her finger that she wished to weep. Ashley put his hand on her shoulder, caressing her like the brother he always should have been. _Ashley's daughter, Ashley's child and my grandchild. Only Rhett would appreciate the irony._

Ashley kissed the baby and handed her back to a radiant Ella, looking pleased with herself and ready to deliver ten more should the occasion call for it. 'Melly would be pleased,' Scarlett thought to herself, examining the happy scene with content.

"What shall you call her, Ella dear?" Scarlett smiled sweetly and sincerely.

Ella raised her eyes demurely toward Ashley, as if to seek his approval in revealing a secret.

"We were hoping to call her Katie," Ashley said, "Katie Scarlett."

Scarlett's eyes overflowed with tears, which she quickly attempted to quell, so touched was she by their regard. Her sweet Ashley, so happy, and her daughter, equally thus. And this little Katie Scarlett would grow into a fine, strong, beauty and would honor them all, Scarlett was certain. _At last there was a Katie Scarlett Wilkes. _

Scarlett waited until suppertime to leave the sanctuary of her family, for that was what Ashley was now, purely family. She disembarked at the Peachtree house, feeling like she was meeting an old friend. Rhett himself could show up and she'd be damned if he could spoil her peace.

The light on in the parlor made Scarlett's heart leap for a moment, thinking that in spite of things, Rhett had just shown up, penitent for leaving her in Charleston and ready to make peace. Mammy was sitting at the table waiting. She hadn't heard Scarlett enter through the front door, so post-deaf now was the old dear. Scarlett bent down to hug that barrel-shaped figure, so precious to her.

"Honey chil'," Mammy's voice was raspier than usual these days, "I was sittin' here just a-watchin' the folks come and go, thinking 'bout Miz Bonnie. She be fifteen this year, and Ah 'pect Cap'n Butler be throwin' a mighty fine party in huh honor."

"Yes, Mammy," Scarlett's tears returned. "Mammy, your Katie Scarlett has a grandchild. Ella's had a daughter, Mammy, she's beautiful. She looks just like Ash-"

Scarlett paused as Mammy continued staring at the open window.

"Ah was 'spectin' Cap'n Butler be comin' home to my honey chil'. After all, my lamb done learnt how to love. That don' come easy, chil'."

"Captain Butler's not coming back, Mammy," Scarlett held the old woman's hand tightly, "you hear me, Captain Butler won't be back. It's Wade and Beau and Ella and Ashley and little Scarlett we've got to worry about, Mammy. My life with Rhett is gone, you understand me?"

"Yes'm, I s'pose that life done gone with duh wind."

It was midnight when Scarlett decided to go to the stables, where her Derby winner was being temporarily housed. She had wanted Beatrice Tarleton to have a chance to meet the horse she had indirectly helped to breed. She stroked the soft muzzle of Leonatus, caressing the bay's face.

"We're too old to be out horse racing, the pair of us. It's out to pasture and to Tara tomorrow, you understand, you nag?"

The racehorse shook his great head as if letting out a scoff in protest.

"That's unkind of you, Mrs. Butler, putting a stallion like that out to pasture before its ready."

Scarlett closed her eyes tightly. "Leave me alone, Rhett Butler. I'm rid of you and I won't have your ghost tormenting me now that I'm finally happy."

"Open your eyes and send me away, Mrs. Butler, for a ghost I certainly am not."

"Rhett!" Scarlett put a hand over her mouth, "but how? I-Rhett!"

His dark hair was liberally streaked with silver, his swarthy complexion owned a new pallor, and his waistline was considerably thinner than their last meeting, but it was him, Rhett in the flesh.

"Yes, Mrs. Butler, it's me. Good as new."

"But Rhett, how did you know I'd be here? I was meant to be at Tara."

"I intended to call on Ella at the store today, but was treated to a holiday in the streets, and when I stopped to inquire as to the occasion, one of Big Sam's boys from Tara done told me that Miz Butler was a proud grandma."

Scarlett shook her head, taking the hand of the man she loved and bringing it to her lips. "They should have said that little Scarlett was your grandchild too, Rhett. She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

Rhett's dark eyes softened, losing their mirth. He stared into his wife's green eyes, asking her once and for all: "Mrs. Butler, would you like for me to come home?"

She kissed him in reply, saying nothing. No words were spoken; there was no need for them.

"You have a reprieve, sir," Rhett saluted Leonatus as he and his wife turned toward their home, arm in arm.

"For tonight perhaps," Scarlett said cheekily. "Tomorrow is another day."


End file.
